


Heat

by optimouse



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Face-Fucking, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Rape/Non-con References, Riding Crop, Women's Right to Choose, gynecological/prenatal annoyances, parental figures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:24:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimouse/pseuds/optimouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to multiple prompts at the GrimmKinkMeme.<br/>Nick's gone through heat since she was in middle school. Renard's never quite been sure what to make of her.  After Juliette leaves Nick [for a yoga-lates professor!], she's back on the market when she's in heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Uncle Farley.”

“Hey.”

“You do know that I am going to have to arrest you.” Nick took a significant look around the room and raised her eyebrow.

“How did someone that I raise become a cop?” He asked, but gamely proffered his wrists.

“Well, I still have my Bachelors in Library Sciences, as you damn well know.” On went the cuff onto the wrists that had taught her how to shoot her first gun. “So how did you avoid setting off Aunt Marie’s spider senses at my graduation?”

            The Steinadler’s relationship with her aunt had disintegrated during her junior year of college. Now, Nick realized that the time she’d spent alone with his uncle, Marie had been hunting. He doubted that Marie realized exactly how much hunting Holt had done in that time. Of course, her prey tended to be human monsters instead of wesen.

            “I lived with her for five years, Nick. I know how to avoid trouble with her.” They got into Nick’s truck. There might be plenty of patrol cars around, but this would allow a private conversation. “So how is Juliette?”

            When she’d met Juliette at a coffee shop a few years ago, she had told her uncle.

            She maintained that her uncle had taught her how to charm. Holt would not disagree.

            “So who am I going to be talking to at the station?”

            “Not me.” They were too close. “Maybe my partner.”

            “You don’t have a picture of me on your desk? I’m heartbroken.”

            “I have a picture of me with Juliette and a litter of puppies. Huskies. I still have the girl.”

            “You gave a dog.”

            “I have a dog. I kept the dog; Juliette took the other two dogs when she left.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t be. She was jealous of the time I spent with my partner. And then meeting my friend Monroe really pissed her off. Apparently my fluid sexuality makes any man a threat to her place in my life.”

            “Oh?’

            “She was fucking her yogalates teacher.” Monroe had even seen them out a few times. It had been a crappy end to their relationship.

            Steinadlers do not growl, but he could feel his claws pushing out of his skin, sharpening.  And to think he thought that the bitch wouldn’t be a threat to his baby Grimm.

            “How have you been aside from that?”

            “My friend Monroe and I have joined a new yoga studio together. Hank, Wu, and I have been going bar crawling.”

            He needed to meet this Monroe. His niece had once taken a yoga class and been expelled your pure inability to balance. The amusement had been endless. Who would have been able to convince her to try it again?

 

 

            “Captain, I cannot perform the interview.”

            “Hank just seriously fucked it up.”

            “What if we let Hank try it again in the morning?”

 

 

            “I had a very irritated Steinadler at my house last night.”

            “BY which you mean Holt?” Monroe nodded, shivering.

“I haven’t been that frightened since I woke up in an alley three states over from my apartment. He was waiting for me to wake up. Cleaning his talons with a machete.”

            “Sounds like him.” Nick had heard that story before.

            “He said that if I injured your heart, he would make your Aunt Marie look like a librarian.”

            “She was a librarian.”

            “She was? He was threatening to kill me, Grimm.” There was pacing, and then _pacing._ Monroe was stalking around the kitchen as if his tail was lashing back and forth. “Did he hunt with your aunt?”

            “Maybe.” Nick actually thought that it was a definite ‘yes.’ “I’m surprised that you aren’t reclaiming your territory.”

            “He’s been here as well.” Monroe glared. “I can smell the feathers.”

            “He had an invitation.” Nick had given it after finding the Steinadler with a lock pick and bloody palms. She was a Robbery and Homicide detective, why did the man think that he was going to make it easy? Juliette had barely tolerated the crushed glass lining the window sills, let alone the tacks in the dirt beneath them.

            Farley had been amused. Of course, his almost niece had been fishing pieces of glass out of one palm with a set of Tweezers.

            “You gave that man an invitation.” Monroe knew three things about the Portland Grimm. “Why did you give him hospitality?”

            “What do you know about the line of descent in the Grimm family line?”

            “Direct, I’d heard.”

            “Then why did it go to Marie when my Mom died?”

            “I thought that she was already the Grimm?”

            “According to my mother’s journals, she was pretty catch and release. Marie and my mom were identical twins, and my grandfather trained them both. My mom became active after his death. Apparently she thought that I would not inherit at all, as I’m not firstborn.”

            “I thought that you didn’t have any littermates.”

            “Anymore, Monroe. Aunt Marie’s genetics knowledge was broader than my mom’s, a perk of her training as a librarian.” She had also made a few genealogical charts: the Grimm line and the Kessler lineage. Nick would have color coded. “Your grandfather’s name didn’t happen to be Hrothbert?”

            “Your aunt’s journals?” Nick shook her head.

            “My great-grandfather. Apparently he was called by a local family of fuchsbau. He had started stalking their little girl.”

            “Did she wear a red coat?”

            “The photo’s black and white, but from the shading, she had a lot of flaming curls. Cute kid. Married one of my great-uncles.”

            “A fuchsbau.” The glare was not as harsh, placed off-track by design. “But he was a Grimm”

            “What do you think makes Grimms so dangerous?”

            It was not a wholly rhetorical question, but Nick let Monroe’s non-answer pass. “Anyway, he’s threatened a lot of those that he thought might be a danger to me. He taught me to shoot, so he knows that I can take physical care of myself. Apparently he has no such belief about my ability to take emotional care of myself.”

            “You mean,” Monroe’s eyes were wide, the wolf burning red with tufts at the edge of his ears. At the nodding chin, he blanched. “But we aren’t like that. Not that it’s bad or anything, but…not us.”

            “He raised me through some pretty large chunks of my adolescence. Juliette also received a few threats.”

            “You aren’t actually seeing anyone?”

            “Not consecutively.” She’d spent so many nights keeping herself carefully controlled around Juliette that Hank was starting to call her a dog. Of course, Hank was hunting for a fifth ex-wife. Hookups were different. “There may’ve been a jagerbar in there, but not a blutbad. Well, other than Hap.”

            “You slept with Hap.” Flat voice, flattening ears.

 

 

            It started as an itch below the skin, as if her blood was cranking through veins a millimeter too small. She could not sit still, her muscles twitching as he felt the hammer on the dulcimer of her nerves.

            When she had been fourteen, she had woken in a pile of sheets damp with sweat and sex, her mattress and crotch bloody.

            As an adult, the onset of heat was no longer a guillotine of surprise, even if it felled her.

            At only three in the afternoon, she would only get edgier until she could find someone to slake her thirst. {Poor Hank, the man would bear the brunt of her temper until she got to the clubs tonight.]

            “What’s with you?” Hank’s eyes were visible over the pile of paperwork. “You’ve looked at the clock three times in the last five minutes. Got some pretty chica to go out with you?

            “If you’re free, does that mean Juliette’s on the market?” Wu dropped onto a shorter stack of paperwork on Nick’s desk.

            “Juliette’s fucking her yogalates instructor.” This time last year, she’d strapped a vibrating dildo on, tied her out over the kitchen table, and rung her dry. “I’ve heard that they’re staying in a shithole apartment, and he hates animals.”

            “Dude, that sucks.” Hank’s eyes were locking onto hers as Wu kept going. “Vicious bitch. Probably should find you a nice bar, celebrate your freedom.”

            “I already have a club in mind.”

            There were a few places that would be a close fit, but this was one that she’d heard of in Vice. Clean, but it had that edge that she would love to dance on.

            “So where are we going?”

 

 

 

 

            When Nick lost her virginity, it was in one of the body scorching flesh hunger. High school, she’d been on the intramural soccer team. She had thought that staying home would be a bad idea.

            The showers after soccer practice had led to an uncomfortable walk home and a worse conversation about safe sex with Aunt Marie. Two days later, Aunt Marie had left on a trip, and Farley wasn’t due to arrive for another day. Nick had figured out a way to slake the hunger.

            Now, nearly fifteen years later, she had taken up the habit again.

            The boxes were in the attic. Juliette had chosen her clothes when they had gone out clubbing, and Nick had destroyed them in a fit of pique after Nick had come home to find two dogs, the couch, and all of Juliette’s stuff gone. These clothes were older, well worn and tighter than she remembered. They probably fit better, cupping her ass and hips. The pseudo-silk sheath of her shirt felt decadent against her starving skin.

            These types of clubs never seemed to change. Go-go boxes were still filled with pretty bodies flying high, dancing their bodies to the heavy beat of the club. The difference between this club and most others in the area was in the patrons.

            Nick had carefully put away the watch that Juliette had given her as a gift and a promise, so many years before. Tonight her wrists and lower arms would be left bare, the silk-like shirt left unbuttoned over her corset.  Juliette would have frowned at the lack of watch.

            On nights like this, the meaning of life was clear. The heave bass of the music called those so inclined together. Dancing in a mass of bodies, you could touch and be touched with abandon. The lighting gave you some modicum of privacy. Hands wandered.

            The thrumming grind of the beat pushed through him, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin as she danced, hips cradled in another’s body. Nothing new, the insistent nudge against her ass wasn’t interesting enough. There was plenty of night left to find a partner to regret in the morning. As it was, just the eroticism was enough to bleed away the tension.

            Well, that and the new contender with a hand trying to travel down her trousers.

 

 

            It was the pale skin, shimmering with glitter that kept Renard’s gaze on that lithe form on the dance floor.

            He came here maybe once or twice a year. When Burckhardt had first come under his command, he had thought the woman to be some sort of Katzschen. Female Klausetreich were odd wesen, raised by abusive fathers and their ‘prey’ wesen wives, they ran the full gambit from violent murderers to being scared of their own shadows. They all, however, went through bimonthly heats, easily controlled with herbs, and now birth control.

            Renard had smelled what he had thought was a whiff of heat on her.

            Three weeks later, he had walked into the precinct with coffee for him and his partner, and had been felled by the scent. The pheromones had hit him like a hammer to the head.

            Burckhardt had looked exhausted, red eyed and trembling, excusing herself to the bathroom every few hours. She walked funny for the next few days after that. Renard had ended up buying Vicks’ Vapo Rub to smear under his nose while on break that day.

            He had ended up with her cycles marked on her calendar. As captain, he tried to give her as much time off as possible when the pheromones were thrown through the air.

            He had taken to excusing himself to the bathroom every few hours at work, while going out in the evening. This place had willing bodies that rarely minded being kicked to the curb in the morning. Those that did not got an eyeful of gun and badge, and then started scampering.

            It was the bony wrists that had caught his attention. They had been thrown up in the air as the person danced, hips ground against another’s when someone had started snaking a hand down their pants.

            One of those bony wrists had lowered and unleashed a grip on that hand that made the man squeak. The other wrist had looked temptingly pretty, dancing around above silver tipped black hair that he had to reach out and snag it, pulling the feisty one in close to him.

            This close in, he could smell wolfbane and myrrh, an odd blend for a perfume. He had heard that some prey wesen used similar blends to avoid being dinner, but that was never substantiated. The dancer relaxed as his hands slipped down barely rounded hips and didn’t move. The travel let him feel a slight taste of either breast buds or pectorals, brushing against his arms.

            Three songs later and his hand had moved from hips to wrists, and their bodies were brushing chest to chest. One hand is capturing both wrists, and another was sticky with silver body paint mixed with sweat. The dancer had to feel his need pushing at their stomach. He wanted to bite, fuck, pull them wide open and fill them. Leaving that pretty rose mouth gasping for more as his tattoos were smeared with silver body paint.

            “Back Room?” Silver whispered, breath against the flesh bared by his undershirt. Renard pulled, his hands squeezing on those skinny wrists. The bones felt like they were grinding together, and , and on the back that his other hand presses against shivers, with a breathy moan dancing along his hard cock.

 

 

            The floor was sticky beneath the leather covering her knees. With the man still holding her wrists, she wasn’t going anywhere.

            He could hold both of her wrists still, with one hand, without straining. Her panties had been soaked since he pulled her by her wrists and away from the dance floor. She could feel her nipples bite at the corset, the steel boning pressing the clamps back into her breasts.

            “You look so pretty on your knees.” The voice crawls along her spine, sending her nerves stinging with lightening.

            A man is gasping into the wall next to them as his ass is spread wide around a bright yellow cock. There is barely enough light for her to see the zippered bulge five inches above her nose. The strap on must be glow in the dark.

            The sounds that they’re making are obscene, and she spreads her knees to tighten the seam of her pants against her clit.

            An angry foot knocks against her knees, pushing her against the wall, feeling the o-rings embedded in the wall pressing at her shoulders.

            “You don’t get to come until I do.” It’s a hoarse whisper as her knees are kicked together. “May I chain your hands?”

            Nick nods against his hand, only moans would squeeze past her larynx if she spoke.

            Heavy metal shackles, supplied by the club, replace the warmth of his hands. Up, up, up, until she’s lifted off of her knees and partially suspended. Her shoulders may ache, but his are unzipping his trousers and pulling out his cock.

            The size of it makes her mouth go wet with hunger/ hard and stiff in his hands , his cock makes a hand span that filled her back look small. It’s dripping.

            “I’m going to use your mouth until we come.” Nick’s mouth will bleed, and there’s not enough friction for the skin hunger rushing through her.

            His arms are thickly muscled, and the calluses on his hands scrape at her cheeks and jaw as he opens her mouth. One hand on her face, one hand at the base of that monster, she thinks that she sees green slit eyes for a second, maybe recognition in alien eyes.

            “Yeah, take it.” Her jaw is opening, filling, and space runs out as the head of him pushes against the back of her mouth.

Lips over teeth, lips over teeth. She may like a bit of rough with her sex, but he didn’t say to use her teeth. It hurts; she can feel the skin on her face go tight. Even as she loosens her throat and sucks, he keeps on going, a hand pushing into her hair.

She can feel her arousal knotting in her stomach as he slams home, inches into her throat and moaning. Sea salt and musk, a slight taste of fur and he’s pulling out.

            Her nipples are screaming against the clamps as his hands tangle in her hair. She’s rocking back and forth in the chains as he uses her, getting harder and larger as he saws over her gag reflex. The noises he’s making slake the need in her veins, bringing her closer and closer. “Oh. That’s good. Such a good little silver pet, aren’t’ you?”

            He’s forcing his cock into her mouth, his balls tightening and lifting against her face as he grinds into her.

            “Bon chat, bon chat.” He’s groaning in French and she can feel the edge of his orgasm pressing at her.

            Shaking, trembling, thrusting, her throat stretches and mouth tears as he comes down her throat. On her face, she can feel fingertip bruises exploding as he comes apart inside her.

            “Good pet, bon chat.” He’s moaning and thrusting, making her veins sizzle and snap as her orgasm crests. “Come for me, Silver.”

            The order fills her, and she can see the stars shower as she goes limp in her manacles. “Good job, pet.”

            He’s whispering praise and unlocking her shackles, holding her against him. “You were brilliant.”

 

 

            The car ride to his place, she’s curled in his lap with his hand petting her hair. Well, that’s how it starts. At one stoplight, she prays that they don’t get pulled over. Her imagination stretches to getting reamed out by the captain for being fingerfucked by a hook up, while sitting in said hook-up’s lap on the way back to his place.

            Squealing herself hoarse seems to be the better part of valor, especially compared to the thought of explaining herself to the captain. Gorgeous or not, the man hits all of her buttons but failed to come across her ‘dating’ radar.

            Still, as her partner for the night pulled into a parking garage, she thought of Renard’s face as his fingers clenched against her g-spot.

            “Did’ you like that?” He whispers into her ear. “Do you want me to hit it again?” Nick can feel his chest under her fingers as he crooks them and pushes. His shirt is in bunches in her fists, her nails biting at her palms as she rides the edge. “Do not come. Not until I’m so deep inside you, so deep that you won’t ever forget. And then, when I tell you to come, you will come.”

            His legs are shifting beneath her as he parks, pushing his cock against her thighs before he’s turning off the car, and taking her across the garage and into the elevator.

 

 

 

 

            Sean didn’t let tonight’s toy leave his lap. The cunt in his hands had vibrated around his finger, and he trails damp fingers inside and under. Pushing her against the door as he unlocks it keeps her safe. He’d had to remove his hand to support her and not rip her trousers. Tearing off leather trousers might be sexy, but she was no wesen, and he doubted she would stay if he did.

            Finally his key got them through the doors and into the kitchen still strewn with dinner’s dishes. She’s mewling in his hands, rocking her body against him. Renard can but guess at the body underneath the clothes, perhaps smeared with the silver body paint that has rubbed onto his hands, his cock.

            Her neck is turned, the long line of artery and tendons bared and shining silver in the moonlight. As he throws her on the bed, he’s tearing at it with his teeth. Under his bite, she’s squirming, and he can smell arousal flooding her pants, seeping out the open zipper.

            “Keep your hands where I put them, pet.” He slams her wrists against the base of his headboard, and goes to work on the light fabric of her over shirt. One piece of gauzy fabric rips, baring shoulders and the corset underneath, trailing after his hands. Sean can feel his claws itching in his nail beds as he bites at her neck.

            Careful to keep his claws from her eyes, he draws one down her spine and cuts through the laces of the corset. Silver is shuddering underneath his claws and he pulls the corset away from her flesh.

            In the moonlight, he can see the slight swell of her breasts, and a chain swinging in the air between them. Experimentally, he tugs.

            Nick screams. The stimulation on her nipples is too much; she’s worn the clothespin clamps for hours. Vaguely, she can feel hands, teeth, flesh against hers, at her breasts and elsewhere, but the white that’s lancing through her body pulls her away.

            Sean loves that she’s writhing in his bed, nipples bruised, bleeding from the clamps and swollen under his tongue. With the edges of the little death swimming through her, he has her pants off and her ass pressed to his stomach as he thrusts his cock inside her.

            “Good pet.” He’s whispering into her ear as she comes apart around him, his cock pistoning forward as he comes.

            She’s so pretty, with her neck bared, the silver hair framing the arching neck and sloping shoulder. He’s already knotting her, and his instincts will win this.

            Nick feels full, too full. Hick cock inside her is huge, plugging her so she cannot move too far forward. He’s pushing, hammering it into her, and she can feel the mewls at the back of her throat squeezing out and into the air. He had ejaculated earlier, and the warmth in the pit of her belly has to be him. His cock is thrusting against her walls, and she tightens again, coming again as he continues to move in her, his teeth gnawing at her shoulder.

            “Good girl.” It’s muffled by bone and muscle, but Sean loves that her body contracts around his knot again. Renard’s cock feels restricted by the condom. His instincts want her to swell with his child, to breed her. She’s a toy he picked up at a club, that he chained to a wall in the back room, that he’s totally dominated. His rational mind, what’s left of it is panting that this is not someone who he should breed. “Good girl.” Again, her body clenches around him, and his hand presses against her stomach. It’s slightly distended, he can feel his knot through the flesh and organs, and he presses. She moans, shifting her neck and his teeth go deeper. Under his hand, her stomach pulses as he continues to push into her from behind. “Take me, toy.”

            Nick loves it, the painfully tight clench of her body around his, the orgasm that sears through her body. Her cunt is stretched wide, and she rocks back against him, hoping to feel him pulse inside her, shake around her as he comes. The pain of his bite dances along her spine, and echoes the bruises that she’ll feel tomorrow.

            This is glorious, a moment that she won’t soon forget. He’s inside her and around her, his control pulling her apart and putting her back together.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s barely dawn when Nick wakes in the damp sheets to the sounds of the shower running. As she moves, her bones ache and her thighs scrape against each other.

Her feet throb as she steps onto the floor, and her thighs are shaking. The clothes strewn across the floor are either in pieces or unwearable, soaked with come and sweat. Those leather pants would rub, and she can barely stand the air.

His shirt is on the floor, next to her trousers. Perhaps it would work for this.

Gathering her clothes in her hands, she buttons his shirt around her before moving towards the door. She makes only one stop. There’s a concierge at the front desk of the apartment building, and he lets her use his phone to make a call.

Monroe silently picks her up, eyes calm and assessing. After the coat check at the club, he doesn’t take her home.

“Why are we here?’ The glass front of the ER is familiar to a homicide cop. “I said I’m fine.”

“The nose knows. You’re bleeding. I can see the blood on your thighs and wrists. The bruising is already beginning to show. Nick, you’re also favoring your shoulder. We’re going to the ER.”

“It was just good sex.”

“You can barely walk, and the sides of your mouth are bleeding.” Monroe’s words could have cut the air. “I could take you to Rosalee instead?”

“No, the ER is fine.”

 

 

They try and convince her to take the morning after pill. She refuses. The doctors want a rape kit done. Nick tells them no. the nurses give Monroe dirty looks until she has him put a hand over the bruises on her cheek. His hand might be too small to cover it, but the nurses still give her pamphlets on domestic abuse. She leaves with a prescription for Bactrim, to be taken by mouth, a sling, wrapped ribs, and bandaged wrists. Nick throws the script for a painkiller away.

The broken condom that she had pulled from his trash goes into the trash with the Vicodin script. She’s on the pill.

Three days later, she’s back on duty in a high necked shirt and full sleeves. If Hank is curious about the scarring he doesn’t mention it. Monroe has been giving her teas every few hours, and the respite from his mother is quite welcome.

At night, her chest is gnawingly empty and her sleep is broken into pieces unless she sleeps in the pilfered shirt that she’d stolen from his floor. With long sleeves and buttons, it hangs to her knees. During the day, Nick finds herself fondling the scarring bite mark on her shoulder. It helps, some.

Hank drags her to their General Practitioner two months later. Nick had fainted in the bullpen, having stood to pour them both a coffee, take one into the Captain’s office. Barely three steps into Renard’s den, and Hank had heard the coffee mug crashing to the floor. When he had entered, the Captain’s knees were on the floor, and his partner was unconscious across them.“She won’t wake up.”

“My partner has been vomiting, losing weight. Today she fainted.” Nick was knock kneed on the doctor’s exam table as Hank described her symptoms to the doctor that he had bullied her into seeing. “Unusually fatigued.”

“How did you know that?”

“You’ve tripled your coffee intake.” Of course Hank wasn’t made a Detective for nothing. “You ordered a triple shot of espresso in your mocha this morning.”

The doctor looked into her folder and looked up.

“Two months ago you visited the ER, presenting as an aggravated sexual assault. You refused the morning after pill.”

“The sex was consensual.” Even with Hank glowering at her imagined attacker, she remembered the sex with some glee. It was good sex. Really good sex. “I am on the pill, we used a condom.”

“You were given an antibiotic regimen, Detective. I’ll have to run a few tests, but I think that you’re pregnant.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter II- Renard's POV

The light of dawn always crawled over his body, slinking like a whore headed for his wallet and stabbing at his eyes.

Why should this morning be any different? Silver was still curled into him, the pale light of the time before the birds awoke showing her Portland tan underneath the remnants of silver body paint. His teeth marks scabbed on her neck, dark red and flaking. With her sprawled atop him, he had an eyeful.

Oh, Sean had been lucky last night. This morning. The remains of his last knot held him tight within her, and he leisurely fucked up into her, pushing her hard. On his chest she mewled like a kitten, stirring but not waking.

Each thrust relaxed him, even as he pushed out a bit more come into his condom. Finally he withdrew, tying off the condom and dropping it into the wastebasket as he rolled her off of him.

Blinking on the nightstand was his alarm clock. Thirty minutes until his alarm, he was fucked out. Sean’s back stretched and pulled. At some point she must have pulled her nails down his back. The pleasure wounds made his fox self shiver in delight even as his hips and back ached.

When Renard had been a detective, his partner would have teased him about a night like this, the soreness afterward.

The hot water in the shower would help. Certainly, the jets pounding into his back didn’t hurt.

Sean had to get her interested in another go. Renard hadn’t knotted anyone without prior consent-ever. Without planning? He had been a base youth then. His kitten was magnificent.

Hands stretched, she’d just taken his cock on the floor of that back room. Think of it brought a stirring of interest as he soaped away the silver on his body. What would she look like if he took her in the shower?

Displacement of air and a closing door pulled his hand from where it had begun curling around his cock. Most likely a hexenbeiste that had smelled the sex, and would call later.

Perhaps his kitten would enjoy being woken with his mouth?

 

 

“Where is Detective Burkhardt?” The Captain, Hank realized, would not want to be disturbed this morning. First the door slammed on the man’s office, and he had heard some very rude words. Now the man was growling at him and glaring at the coffee machine. “Who made this sludge?”

Wu started, and Hank glared at his partner’s desk.

“Nick’s on leave. Remember, she has a week of personal time.”

“She’s fine.”

“She’s on vacation.” Hank glared at the paperwork on his desk. “She doesn’t have to fill out anything in triplicate!”

 

 

The Detective Burkhardt that Renard watched return to duty was a far more settled woman.

Her arms are bandaged under long sleeves, and he hasn’t seen her sit down, but his worries about an abusive relationship are soothed by an overheard conversation with Detective Griffin. Hearing about the climbing accident doesn’t keep him from running every man or woman in her life.

She heals. Sean haunts the clubs. Someone tells him that his kitten is an occasional patron. He sends a hexenbieste. Silver hasn’t shown up since he took her home.

Nick’s distinctive scent of myrrh gains ripeness, and sometimes the Regnant just wants to sit her in his lap and cuddle her. It discomfits him that he wasn’t to place a hand on her, let some of his heat leech into her.

Sweaters in early August are off on her to him, but he realized that she’d perpetually freeze when he catches her hugging herself in the bullpen. It almost makes the growling in his chest subside when she comes into work with the stench of blutbad in a cloud around her. The weider-blutbad would probably be terrified to know that lending his Grimm a plaid shirt after she spent the night on his couch had gained him a very in depth background check by his Regnant.

Three things distract him from Monroe. The first is Farley Kolt. The Steinadler was back in Portland. The second is the nearly acquired footage of his apartment’s lobby. His concierge had informed him that Silver had used the phone. She had probably called a cab.

His Grimm throwing up violently for a week, and Detective Griffin dragging her to the doctor trumped his other distractions.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick’s house was big for her. The first time Farley had been here there had been more things, knickknacks, furniture, decorations. This new house, the same house, had the layout, but a lot less filling it.  The living room had a new television and a couch. On the wall across the door war a mirror. His smart little girl had put up enough mirrors that she always had an angle to check a room for intruders.

Places where paintings where were now held filled framed sketches. Her work, but thick lines and mirroring images. Marie as the librarian and the Grimm. That Blutbaden with his hands in a clock and a pair of magnifying glasses on his face, and then snout deep in truffles of all things.

Himself.

 

Farley could spot a few places with concealed weapons. Not as many as he suspected were hidden—and what he could spot were probably the less illegal.

Dog fur was everywhere, which the husky under his hands explained. Gorgeous girl. Juliette must have taken the other pups that he had been introduced to. With the size of her teeth, he suspected that he would have a set of pointy rips in his flesh if Nick hadn’t introduced them.

Up the stairs, the rooms are a lot less comfortable. The master bed’s obviously a replacement, still ruffled from the morning. His niece’s scent is thicker here, and different.

Kelly and then Marie had always smelled slightly of blood. Nick had it as well, and that smell lingered. Neither was this just that nip of iron that he scented on them once a month during menstruation or the groin deep pull of musk that Nick must have gotten through Reed that writhed through her.

Elizabeth. Earth baking in the sun as seeds ripened and sprouted. His Marie has smelled like this before she lost Elizabeth and any other chances.

The nightshirt on the floor was a man’s dress shirt.

Warning Nick about Akira could wait. He needed to see that lying blutbad.

 

 

“You know that there are options, Nick?”

“Detective Burckhardt.” She never likes it when someone addresses her so familiarly without her permission. That is a lie, Nick acknowledges.

“Detective. As we aren’t North Carolina, you could have an abortion, give the baby up.”

“Doctor, what should I be aware of about the pregnancy?” Abortion is a valid choice, and she will consider it later, but Nick hates that the doctor seems to assume. Assume that she was raped. Assume that she doesn’t want the child. “I’ve been shot, stabbed before. Does any of that damage to my body cause a potential threat to a successful pregnancy?”

“Negligible.” The man shrugs, and Nick swallows.

Beside her, Hank is looking green, his hands clenching and opening. His fingers will be more comfortable in hers, so she winds them together, squeezing tightly.

“Women have babies all the time, miss. You’ll be fine.”

“My aunt had a miscarriage in the late second trimester that nearly killed her.” Nick had spent hours on her knees with bleach scrubbing at the stains on the bathroom. “Thank you.” She stands, pulling Hank with her. “You were very—helpful.”

Nick would call Rosalee, maybe go to the spice shop. If she didn’t know someone, she would know someone who did.

“Nick?” Hank was being pulled along, almost stumbling.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His hand was dropped, and she slowed. “I’m sorry.”

His fingers were wiping under her eyes, arms pulling her to his chest. Their guns bumped, and the laughed.

“I’m sorry, Nick. I shouldn’t have pushed.” Hank had pushed her, and she’d gone out and then had gotten raped.

“Why?” Nick let a hand touch the scarring at the join of her neck and shoulder. “I went out and I got fucked.” Nick could feel the echoing arousal at the memories. “I liked it. Pregnancy is the goal, biologically, of straight sex.”

 

 

“Hey Monroe!” Hap was off of work, a six-pack of that brew Monroe liked in hand, and in a great mood. “I got the brewskis, are you ready to tell me about your date with the scrumptious Miss Calvert?”

It was the scene in his friend’s kitchen that made him say the next bit. Surprise, of course. He would swear it.

“Is this why you and Angie got on so well? Sex with Steinadlers and knives?”

The Steinadler looked pissed.

Brews on the table, Hap raised his hands.

Monroe’s phone rang.

“I’m sorry; the owner of the phone is a little busy.”

“Uncle Farley, we’ll talk about this later. First I want you to put Monroe on the phone. Then I want you to let my best friend go. Apologize.”


	5. Heat V

“You came to me.  
 Rosalee felt empathy shivering coming on as she watched the shaking Grimm. “Why me?”

“Why not!” Rosalee rolled her shoulders.

“You have to have other people!”

“I have Monroe. You. My Uncle Farley. Everyone else is either a cop, or Juliette kept when she left. I have a husky.”

Rosalee just did it. She tucked her head into the other woman’s shoulder and stuck her arms around the cop’s ribs.

“You looked like you needed one of these,” she whispered in the woman’s ear before releasing her. “Nick, I’ll make an appointment for you with my OB-Gyn. She’s really nice, a harrinstein. Lyda Eostra, I’ll call her first. If you want, I can go with you, even.”

“Rosalee, you don’t hate me?” Plaintive whimpers were rarely pretty, but all it made her want to do was cuddle the Grimm.

“You’re pregnant. You didn’t kill anyone.” Assurance was a balm to some of Nick’s nerves, not all.

“Rosalee, I, that night,” It was a rare time when Nick stuttered. She’d done that more in high school. “when we, it was…”

“Magnificent? Bad?” We’re adults, we can describe sex, certainly talk of it.”

“The sex was excellent.” Nick stuttered again. Ughh. “And noteworthy. He wasn’t _blutbaden,_ that I’m sure off.”

“And why do you mention that?”

“At some point, an adventurous young Grimm got close enough to a _blutbad_ to have a close encounter with the _bulbis glandis_.”

“Male fuchsbau also knot.”

“Again, I may not be perfect with my lore, but I know what I felt and what I saw.”

“There are other wesen. Also, other lines of mythology to work with.”

“I know.” The books were interesting, and vague. “Monroe took me to the hospital instead of home that morning. I woke up at someone’s, his, condo. It was in the same building as my captain’s.”

“Why did you leave?” There were a lot of reasons to leave. Embarrassment, shame, a coyote-ugly morning.

“I didn’t want to spoil it.” Nick had stayed too long a time or three. “I spent a lot of time in and out of different beds before Juliette. There was a time or two when staying too long earned me a beating.” She’d still had to wear out the heat the night after that morning.

There was a difference between finding pleasure in pain in the sex act, and a broken rib or three. She’d been a rookie, and Detective Renard had been quite inquisitive.


	6. Heat VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: frank discussion of reproductive choice, mentioned rape by a survivor.

There’s a cabin in the woods, but that’s not where it starts. It may not be where it ever winds up, either. The cabin may be an illusion, the fervent discussions are not.

It starts with Nick calling the Captain, saying that she’s calling off for the rest of the day. Hank is silent in the background, until he grabs her phone and says that he won’t be coming in either. That Nick should be fine, but with the bitch gone, someone else needed to take care of her and clearly a husky couldn’t bring her a glass of water.

Nick insists that they stop at Whole Foods on the way to her house. Hank gets a shopping list made up on the fly—

Crackers, ginger ale, organic milk, organic yogurt, kale salad—

Basically a whole mess of things that Monroe will eat and that she probably should, while she goes to the section with all the supplements and herbs and shit.

Pregnancy—well, the sign says prenatal care and she’s flipping through the boxes, confused.

“Miss,” It’s a girl in an apron, a friendly face without judgment or worry or joy. Someone who has probably guessed what she’s looking for, who doesn’t care if she’s keeping it or not, even if she’s going to have this baby. “May I help you find something today?”

“The doctor said to start prenatal vitamins, folic acid. I’m crap with this, I can also be pretty sensitive to taste—I stopped taking the vitamin D supplements I was prescribed because they made me nauseous.”

“Were they tablets?” The D-Supplements?”

“Yes.” The younger woman grabs two of the boxes, gave them to Nick. “These are gel capsules. They are designed not to dissolve until they hit your stomach, which should help with the taste. Candied ginger can also help with the nausea.”

“Thank you.” Hank hadn’t come looking for her yet, which is a bad sign. “Thank you for your help, but I need to find my partner. Groceries shouldn’t take this long.”

“Good luck.” It’s clear that the woman’s familiar with that refrain. “Have a lovely day.”

 

“What happened to my grocery list?” Hank’s cart has crackers, a bottle of ginger ale, and a box of muffins, a cake box, and chips.”

“They were so pretty?” Hank’s excuse is familiar to her.

“They’re why we spend an hour a day jogging, Hank.”

“We can’t do that anymore.”

“Why?” Hank gestures at her stomach. “The doctor encouraged me to continue exercising. However, I should avoid any major things like falling or getting hit in the stomach.”

“Why did w go to the herbalist, then here?” Hank’s always good at a fast switch of topic; probably a holdover from his marriages. “I would think that she would be able to find those for you.” Hank’s hands reach towards the vitamins, the vitamins still in her hands. Placing them next to the ginger ale, she wonders if her life will be a cliché. One night stand; walk of ~~shame~~ pride, missed period un-noticed until she fainted, pregnant alone.

“The doctor was a jack ass. Rosalee is a friend. A friend with an OB-GYN who is not a judgmental white man.”

“You caught him giving me the glare.” Hank never mentioned it, but sometimes she thought that Hank, Wu, and she were Robbery/Homicide’s token diversity team.

“Yeah, guy was a misogynistic racist.”

“You’re planning on writing a letter of complaint.

“My, my, Hank, how well you know me.”

 

 

Renard had paired Hank and Nick after she punched Detective Norris. Norris had since been banned from Sex Crimes, and the head of White Collar wanted Norris dead. His nose looked like a corkscrew, and all the Police Department could really do was pray he caught a bullet on an entry with SWAT.

On the first day, Sean had worried that the younger detective would get scared off by Detective Griffin’s issues. On the second, Renard was worried that Griffin would go gaga for Burckhardt’s pheromones.

Day Three started with a fresh crime scene, a dead body, and coffee. It ended with a confession. Somewhere in between he postulated that the two detectives had bonded. Siblings in deed.

A twenty four hour bug? Well maybe Wu had come up with something on the footage from his condo.

Adalinde was not stable, even if she was preferable for something like this. Shady area of gray. The hexenbieste fancied herself invaluable to him, in bed and otherwise, but she definitely wasn’t. she hated being bitten, and thus the knot was out. Adalinde was infatuated with the power, not the monster that allowed it.

His desk was neat, computer open. Legally, Sean couldn’t run a credit card trace on an establishment without a warrant.

The women listed on Steal Drum’s credit card records were scrolling down. Unfortunately he would have to data mine from here, there was little vital information listed in these records.

 

 

“Why does your partner have an armful of grocery bags?” Monroe was red-eyed and glaring at Nick. “Could you tell your whack job of an uncle why I couldn’t have gotten you pregnant?”

“I think a better question, hello Monroe,” Hank placed the groceries on the table before pushing Nick at a chair by the kitchen table. “Is why is Farley Kolt here?”

“Hank, my Uncle Farley. Uncle, you need not to kill Monroe. The last time I fucked someone I was friends with was Juliette, and we all know how that ended.”

“Is that a cake?” Farley was squirming out of the issue. “Why does it say ‘Congratulations on being cancer-free?”

“It says that because Hank’s a worry-wart.” Nick liked the cake- tiramisu was her favorite. She’d never tell Monroe, but she didn’t like artificial dyes, sweeteners, and she drank her milk organic. Nick just wasn’t into gourmet anything. “The doctor assured him that I was fine.”

“But you are pregnant?”

“Yes, Monroe.” Nick looked from the cake to the men hovering. “Sit down boys.”

She had never known that three kitchen chairs could make scrapes that sounded like a saw on a threaded steel pole. “I am pregnant, not handicapped. That is something that you must remember. Second, I may not be keeping the baby.”  
“You saw what adoption did to Holly.”

“Not what I meant, Monroe. I was on birth control when I conceived, and I am going to consider ending the pregnancy.”

“Why are you telling us this?”  
“I am telling you this because I refuse to lie about it. I will call my choice what it is, not hide an abortion as a miscarriage.”

“Marie didn’t?” Darley gasps.

“No, not Aunt Marie. When I was in university, I knew a girl. She told her fiancée that she lost the baby. The lie never came out, but the trust in the relationship was already gone.”

 

 

Sexual sadism was not in his sexual personality, but rather a flavor that he recognized and liked in his life on occasion, but it certainly wasn’t necessary like his morning cup of coffee.

Renard hated it when it took over the bulk of his sex life.

The pretty twink was writhing in the bed, spread wide and begging as Renard ran the twitch over his thighs and snapped it hard against the aroused skin.

It didn’t fill the itch, that empty space where he was full of life until he’d taken someone and not let go. Sean wanted her in his bed, in his arms instead of a pale imitation that barely understood or enjoyed what she had. A mate that he had lost instead of claimed, and a bond left gaping open.

 

 

Monroe stays after Hank leaves for a date. Uncle Farley left for his hotel.

“That story was wrong.” Rosalee had come over, and they all sat in the kitchen. Tazo tea had been her contribution to the gathering. Passion tea for Nick, Calm for Monroe, and Rest for Rosalee. “I couldn’t smell a lie, but you hid your hands from the other two.”

“You know me so well already.”

“That thumb twitch?” Rosalee looked mollified at Monroe’s explanation. “It’s a tell when you lie to family. I’d assume you learned to control the emotions that would make the scent of a lie.”

“Aunt Marie wasn’t around as much as Uncle Farley.”

“Steinadlers smell lies.”

“I was a teenager. Teens learn not to get caught.” The cup is a warm presence in her hands, centering her. “When I was at University, I was raped. There was enough physical damage the hospital thought that my body wouldn’t support a pregnancy, so they didn’t give me the morning after pill.”

“You got pregnant.” Rosalee understood the story. “You’re playing with a scar on your shoulder.”

“It comforts me.” Nick acknowledged another tell. “I like rough sex, but I get to choose who. I was at a club, a guy got his arm around my neck in an alley, pinned me. Afterwards, he asked me if it was good.” Monroe had his hand wrapped around one of Rosalee’s, and Nick flattened her own on the table so that Rosalee’s grasping hand could hold her’s. “The Planned Parenthood I went to, I met Mandy in recovery.”

“I understand.”

“Nick, Kolt doesn’t know?”

“Monroe, unless my uncle stalked my medical records, he doesn’t have a clue.”

“Do you want to end this pregnancy because of what happened with the last?”

“I don’t want to end it, I do not see adoption as a valid option, and I am unsure if I would be a good mother. I always thought, once I met Juliette, that we would adopt after we married.” In the giddy days before she had withdrawn, Nick had bought a diamond. It had been in her bedside table, not two feet from where Juliette had been riding the yoga-lates instructor.

“Nick?”

Oh. I’m sorry. I wanted kids.” Nick knew now. Knew it, and how. “Thank you for staying over.”

“Nick, not that Monroe doesn’t know this, but you have really good coffee.”

“Juliette hated it, so I never brewed it. The night I she left, before her stuff ended up on the lawn and I called off the next day, I brewed a pot.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adalinde, Akira, and meeting a new doctor...

Two days later, Nick parked the Jeep outside the OB-GYN’s office. Rosalee had apparently made a call to expedite the appointment. Her own phone call to have her medical records released had not gone as well, and Nick was going to have to call the hospital’s administrative branch in the morning.

Her time in the waiting room was short, probably because the lausenschlage next to her looked hungry.

“Detective Burkhardt, I still don’t have you medical records.”

The doctor is a rounding woman of middling age. Her ears are noticeable, but Nick is operating under the assumption that her _grimm_ is sharpened by the pregnancy.

It’s that, a known mystery, she would prefer.

“I have asked the doctor to release my medical records completely. He has been less than willing to cooperate.”

“I find that Doctor Ellis often is.” the doctor smiled. “Lyda Eostra, Dr. Eostra. And you’re the Grimm. Nicola Burkhardt.”

“Call me Nick. I’m pregnant. The father is _wesen_ , but not blutbad.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Humans don’t knot, and I know blutbad.” Nick sighed. “He was a one night stand.”

“Well, that leaves a lot of options. I’ve never attended a Grimm’s pregnancy, but I have attended a lot of other high-risk pregnancies. Including mixed breeds. You’re in good hands.”

“Okay. So what do you need of me?”

“Honesty. Trust. Try not to scare the wesen that attend my practice, Nick.” Eostra’s smile could warm a room, holding Nick’s hands. “Nicola, you’re in the best hands short of a kind’s resources. Of course, I’ll have questions. Miss Calvert mentioned on the phone that you have a rather painful medical history?”

“My parents died in a car accident before I hit puberty. I don’t know much about my family’s medical past—my aunt Marie had terminal breast cancer when she was killed, and in all honesty, the swift death was a mercy. I know that she had a miscarriage that ended her chances of having children, and the father was a _steinadler_.”

“Have you ever not evaded questions that you would rather not answer?” A knock bounced off of the door. “That would be my ultrasound technician. It’s too early to get any strong images of the fetus, but I would like to have some reference images of your reproductive organs as the pregnancy progresses.”

“I see.” Nick really didn’t get it.

“For example, do you have a tilted uterus? It’s common in human women. There are other genetic issues at stake. Ideally, I’d do an intravaginal”

“NO!” Nick’s voice scrapes at her throat.

“But as I can see on your shoulder, it’s not an option.”

“Doctor?”

“That’s a claiming scar. Many of the predatory _wesen_ bite their mates to claim them. That claimed mate instinctively rejects a great deal of interference with their body.”

 

 

“You enjoy violent sex.” Eostra’s eyes are on the screen, reading the information that the technician’s wand gives her. “Tell your mate to be more careful if he wants this pregnancy to continue.”

“I haven’t seen the man since the morning after. We met in a club, I went back to his, and that was that.”

“How are you planning on handling this alone? I can refer you to a few groups of single _wesen_ mothers. The Klaustriech women in the city have become a bit of a pride.”

“I’ll file paperwork with HR, start refurbishing the house; change my emergency contact to my work partner, Rosalee, or maybe my uncle.”

“Well, everything’s progressing nicely.” The wand stopped moving, the technician’s hand on the doctor’s arm. The wand was brushed back at a nod from the doctor. “I see.”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing bad, Nick. Your father was _wesen_. In your medical history, you became sexually active quite early. You were going through heat, which probably pushed you into it.”

“As if I was on fire, burning until I got ducked. Masturbation worked for a bit, but…”

“Yes, I’m familiar. Birth control worked usually?”

“I was on the pill, and I’ve always used condoms.”

“You’re off the pill now that you’ve found out, though? I have no clue what it could do to a hybrid’s pregnant physiology.”

“Yes, I am. No worries.”

“Okay. Don’t worry; the stress is not good for you or your pregnancy.”

 

 

Adalinde Schade had a job, an apartment, and loyalty.

She no longer had sisters, as her fellow hexenbieste thought her shortcut with Griffin was forbidden. When she’d got caught by the Grimm, they’d said Adalinde deserved it.

Deserved being tricked by that dyke into biting her, tasting a Grimm’s blood.

 

 

Akira was in his city. The _wesen_ had hunted for the coins of Zacynthos for years. His sources also said that Farley Colt the last known holder of the coins was dead at Akira’s hands.

Clearly one of these two things was wrong, as that blasted _steinadler_ was sitting at Burkhardt’s desk, hands spinning and mouth running. Detective Griffin’s shoulders were relaxed, so no worries.

And then Burkhardt was at her desk, a mug of coffee going to Griffin. From his closed office, Renard could smell sharp ginger from the mug now abandoned on her desk as the _steinadler_ spun his detective around as she gripped his shoulders.

“Would you care to introduce us?” Wu is there, Sergeant Wu is always there with a lecherous grin and a comment to break an uncomfortable silence with a laugh.

“Wu, my uncle Farley. You met him during that case with the jeweler and the coins. Farley and my aunt Marie were lovers for a great many years, he practically raised me.”

“Practically? I taught you to shoot, Nick. This little one was in so much trouble.”

“I was in so much trouble? You were the one I had to bail out of jail!”

“They were dumping oil in wetlands on purpose, Nick!”

“I know, why do you thing their corporate offices had a fire, and all their profits were redirected to the ASPCA and the Wetlands Conservation Agency?”

“Detective Burkhardt is good with a computer, Mr. Kolt. The last I had heard, you were a suspect in a murder investigation. Now you’re my detective’s uncle?”

“Captain Renard,” Why was the _steinadler_ smirking, his nares flaring enough that Burkhardt is going green? She’s been doing that lately around some of the _wesen_. “Nick believes, as her aunt die, that if I’m dumb enough to get caught—well, I’m not that dumb.”

“You’re capable, Kolt. But you’re also not going to get caught if you did the crime.’

“Exactly. So, Mr. Captain, Sir—may I steal my niece away?”

“She’s already scheduled to be leaving early, a doctor’s appointment.” Doctor Ellis is still pissed at her, and can’t legally say why when complaining to her superior officer.

“You have a doctor’s appointment and I wasn’t invited? Griffin’s complaint is _de rigueur_.

“Griffin, I once had one of the brass ask me if you followed Burkhardt into bed.” His stomach had seized, and his creature growled. Renard did not understand why, then or now.

 

 

“Miss Schade, I was under the assumption that the Grim in this Canton is under a Regnant’s protection.

Unspoken in the human café was the issue of hexenbieste’s betrayal of her prince. Outside the walls of glass windows, a typical Portland day was framed. Damp umbrellas were propped against many tables.

“Oh, the Grimm is protected: I can only touch the dyke’s lover. But you, Mr. Akira, I can tell that you don’t give a shit about that.”

“Out of a pretty little mouth—you said that you had information on the coins? I don’t take to liars well.”

“They are here in Portland. I think that you had heard that Farley Kolt had them?”

“I found the man, he didn’t have them, and he would have talked.”

“The _steinadler_ is alive and well, Akira. He laid you a trap, thinking that he was dead and at your hands to seal it. Anyway, he’s in the city. He most likely does not have the coins, and you killed another _steinadler_ of less intellect.”

“How do I find him?”

“He has a niece, Nicola Burkhardt. He visits her nearly every day, Akira.”

“A Katzchen? I thought that the Burkhardt line was as dead as the other female katzchen lines, or that they were all in harems now, being breed as toys.”

 

 

 It starts with Sean taking two steps back, palming his cock, and grabbing at the accessibility bar in the shower. He works his cock hard, tight, remembering clenching walls and a wiggling body.

Three neighborhoods away, Nick has one hand clenched around the quilt. Underneath, she spread her knees wide as she trailed her ever-lengthening nails on her thighs. They catch on tender skin, drawing out a gasp and bucking her hips.

She hadn’t felt the rush of want since that night—heat was apparently quenched by babies. Nick had forgotten this solo joy, of dancing an edge that she didn’t have to push herself over.

In his shower, Sean rubbed a swept over the head of his cock. Somewhere, Silver needed him- a call, a low pulse of want biting in his head. It echoed in desire, fire in the blood and the nerves. It clawed at his balls, making them ache.

Nick arched her head, letting her fingertips dance over her clit, pulling a peak out of her body. She let go before feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm. It jumped through her, white sparks against a wet wall quickly washed away. On her shoulder, the bite stung.

Sean groaned, his cock softening. She had been there for him, just a moment.

Where was his mate? She could feel him, and he, her, but finding the woman was the trouble.


	8. tag to woman in black

 It starts her day—Juliette Silverton found dead by roommate—just a little blurb in the newspaper. It was presumed an accident, but a coroner would confirm.

Ten minutes after spending the morning on her knees in front of the toilet, it felt like a further blow to her. Nick had mentioned Akira last night, and Farley had said a great deal of nothing. Nick had seen him prowl the borders of her yard, with his cell phone in hand and his gun holstered on the hip. Every time he had turned, Nick had returned to cleaning out what had been Juliette’s storage area and office. Whiskey, her one remaining pup, had been curled up in the corner with his eyes open or else getting underfoot all the time. As her pregnancy had progressed, Whiskey had become even more protective, to the point of a standoff with Monroe the week before. Rosalee had been quite amused.

Now, Whiskey whined, shoving his head under his mommy’s hand to beckon cuddles and give comfort. On the stove, her kettle whistled, and Nick’s oatmeal overcooked as she took in the news.

Today was going to be one of those days.

***

“Juliette Silverton was found dead in her apartment today.”

The Captain’s fist thumped against the table.

“What happened?” The fuchsbau on the other end of the Captain’s call gulped.

“Well, it looks to me as if she got knocked out, fell down, and suffocated.”

“You sound like an idiot.”

“The carpet is really thick, sir! Like a pillow and she went face first.”

“The coroner will confirm. Thank you, Officer Fischer.” Renard hung up, nudging his phone off of the edge of the newspaper.

Two years ago, he would have started bereavement leave paperwork for Nick. He had first met Juliette when he had run into the couple at a little bistro on the waterfront. The red head had been stunning, almost matching Nick’s pixieness. She had introduced herself when his detective had pointed Renard and his dining companion out. They had enjoyed a lunch together, with Nick’s eyes tight and shoulders rolled into knots.

One year ago, he would have asked first.  

Nick had come in with the red cheek and unhappy body of a cop that had spent the night on the couch after an argument. Juliette had come at lunch with donuts, kisses, and apologies to Nick.

Now, the woman was dead, five months after Nick had called in sick out of the blue.

Renard had made some excuse and gone over to find his detective in the backyard of the little Victorian clapboard. She’d had a lighter and the trashcan in front of her stunk of gasoline.

He’d stayed for an hour, left when he had scented blutbad.

A month later, when the pull of her had gotten too strong for him to ignore, he had gone out. As Nick’s direct superior it would have been inappropriate to act on those urges with her.

The issue was, he couldn’t find Silver, even though he’d marked her, and all he wanted to do was to keep Burkhardt close. He was not supposed to act so possessive towards someone he hadn’t marked; the Regnants did not take two mates without having the first with them already.

Renard had nearly bitten off Griffin’s head yesterday. This distraction was unacceptable—he needed to find his Silver and let go of this damned obsession!

****

Akira was in her house. It was a bad life choice for the wesen.

Nick had to admit, looking down at the corpse, that perhaps she had overreacted. Plus explaining the double barrel shotgun to the Captain would be a pain in the ass.

“Was that a grenade launcher?”

Hank arrived, probably called by the patrolmen outside.

“Why on earth do you have a grenade launcher?” Wu asked.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at the Captain’s?”

“Funny thing, that.” WU started. “We got to the Captain, and Akira was gone. Then the call came in—shots fired.”

“Let me guess.” Nick starts. “Too late.”

“You look like shit, Detective.” Speak of the devil. “I’ll take it that this is your work?” A shoe nudged the corpse on the floor, patent leather smearing with the gory bits. “What did he do to you?”

“I found him upstairs.” Akira had swiped at her, she’d dodged out of the way, kicked him clear of the room and downstairs. Towards a better weapon.

“In your bedroom? None of his pathology said that he—“

“No, Captain.” Nick could see Hank out of the corner of her eye, nodding as he stuck his head in her kitchen. “I found him in the nursery.”

“The nursery.” The Captain’s voice was dead, his eyes glowing. “I was not aware that you were dating—“

“I’m not.” The flap of shirt left on Nick’s shoulder gaped, and underneath, her shoulder ached, the scar burning. “I filled out the paperwork for maternity leave and placed it in your inbox before I left today.”

“You’re pregnant, and he left.” Renard was growling. Nick had thought him old fashioned, but this anger at a phantom of a memory, someone he never met was surprising in the least.

“Captain, he was a one-night stand.” Blunt was easier. It had been easy to hit Farley with when he spoke about hunting the man down and forcing him to take part.

This child was hers, of her body, and it was her choice to keep it and to raise it as her own and only Nick’s.

“I will not force a man to be a parent if he isn’t even my partner. Pleasure, not parenthood was the intent of the encounter—and parenthood is my intent.”

“SO you finally came clean.” Wu broke in. At the glares, he added explanation. “What, you are all crap cops if you didn’t even notice that Burkhardt’s been ill a lot, and has stopped her monthly bitchfest!”

“Well, you’d be a bitch too if once a month you had a pint of blood slowly seeping from your body!” Wu backed away, hands up. “Let’s not mention the—“

“Hey Nick, I found point of entry—two, actually—a pane of glass was broken in the kitchen downstairs. But the front door, it looks like the lock was jimmied with some sort of skeleton key.”

“Officers, I’d like the home to be searched for anyone else!” The Captain snapped at the uniforms. “Nick, let’s head to the hospital, you’ve a nasty cut.”

**

“You’re pregnant.” The boss was almost silent. “Everyone knew except me?”

“Captain, I’m not ready to get sidelined yet. Dr. Eostra said that I’m fine for active duty until further notice.”

Dr. Eostra, a harrinstein. She had become a doctor, specializing in obstetrics and gynecology. The doctor had apprenticed with several wesen midwives before moving to Portland and setting up a practice.

“Is she your new doctor, after that lawsuit you’ve made against that asshole at General?”

If she was, he really must remember to send Miss Calvert flowers; she would be the only woman in his detective’s life to give her the advice.

“Yes. She seems quite competent.” Hank, Detective Griffin, had protested Renard’s escort of Nick to the hospital. If anything, the pregnancy explained some of Griffin’s protectiveness. “Would you mind if I called my uncle to pick me up from the hospital?”

Farley Kolt. Steinadler. Practically the widower of Marie Kessler—how had she balanced that relationship and the swath that she had cut through the wesen community? For that matter, if he assumed that 3 of the coins of Zacynthos had been lost, and then they resurfaced in Portland, where were they now? Akira was after the coins—then Nick had them. Probably. The steinadler had touched them.

“Captain?” Renard had been silent for too long, making his detective curious.

“Not a problem.”

He might want to have words with the man, but. “Tell him that we will be at Portland Memorial. Dr. Eostra has privileges there.”

“Why would you know that about an OB/GYN?”

***

The woman in black slipped under the police tape, drawing close to her daughter’s house.

“Well, maybe the Captain will finally get his head out of his ass!”

“Wu!” The speaker was taller than the cop who had made the comment, a detective by the badge. “What I want to know is where Kolt is? Nick’s uncle has been in and out so much, I’d guess that he’s been living on the couch.”

Marie had married the steinadler?

“Well, given that Interpol reported Farley Kolt dead at Akira’s hands, and he was here two days ago, I’d bet he’s been trying to keep Akira away from here.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thanks, Griffin, for acknowledging my glory.” The one called Wu was definitely preening like a parrot. The woman in black had to smother a giggle.

“Not a problem, jackass.”

***

“Well, thanks for rousting me out of bed.” Eostra was light on her feet for having been dragged out of bed. “You said on the phone that someone invaded your home?” She has Nick’s shirt up and her hands palpating the Grimm’s abdomen where the woman lay on the bed. “Your uncle is coming, I’d assume?”

“Yes, Captain Renard can stay while you tell me that we’re fine.”

“Of course your mate will stay while I examine you.” The harrinstein’s hands go still as the detective goes wooden beneath them. “What, you wouldn’t let a Regnant not your mate this close to you, not while you’re pregnant. Not claimed as you are.”


	9. Heat IX

“Shit!” Farley came awake with a jolt. “What the hell?”

“Good morning Mr. Kolt.” She was the figure of nightmares long gone, from the days when he was more easily frightened by threats. The days before he had spent ten years in limbo, with a niece but without the woman who was the girl’s aunt, the sister of that woman who had a knife to his throat had held his heart in a vice.

Hell, even dead, he could barely stand to stay in the same room with Marie Kessler’s memory. Her sister though, she made sure he couldn’t leave without a knife going through his jugular.

“I knew something wasn’t right.” Farley’s growl wasn’t the guttural threat of a _blutbad_ , but it worked on most things, including idiot teenage girls who snuck out with boys from the football team. “Akira should have had more partners in crime.” He watched his sister in law nod. “Why are you here?”

“My daughter is here. Why shouldn’t I be here?”

“You don’t have a daughter.” Years after his fiancé’s embraced their niece at her parent’s funeral, he finally got to say the words. “You gave Nick to Marie and walked away. Marie couldn’t even call you to ask questions—you left us with a child.”

“She thrived—she’s good. She got rid of Akira.”

“What?” Farley had the knife in his hand and singing across the room, vibrating as it struck the doorframe. “Where was he?”

“Apparently he got her contact information from her boss, went to her house.”

“I’m surprised that he managed to get past the Captain.” Renard was, in Farley’s opinion, one strong son of a bitch. Status as regnant notwithstanding. “Akira’s lucky he’s dead.”

“I would have made him hurt.” The woman’s smile sickened him. A hard kill was something that he could understand. The woman’s antics had allowed Marie to partake in a lot more practical hunts in peace. But torture for the sake of vengeance boggled his mind.

“No, Portland’s a Territory. The Captain’s pretty high up in the hierarchy and very protective of Nick.”

 

 

“The pregnant mate of a regnant would not be as calm about having another Regnant in their vicinity.” The doctor tried to explain. “Nick,”

Her patient was pastry skinned, all white and doughy while breathing hard. One of her hands was clutching at her shoulder. “Captain, I need to--” Eostra stopped explaining and started doing. First to check her patient's pulse – it was racing as expected and her patient was gasping for air. “Captain, I need you to place your hands upon her mark.”

“What mark?' The regnant was starting to manifest, his eyes glowing gold and the shadows of wings sliding along the walls of the examination room. “I brought a random woman home, took her, and claimed her. It's deviant for me to want the detective—”

“You claimed her with seed, blood,” The doctor's hands were on Nick's clothing, removing the remains of the shirt. The scar stood out, whether from irritation or emotion. Light snapped from the edges of the ridges, and Sean knew that the scar was a reflection of his teeth in flesh. “And bite.”

Entranced, Sean's eyes stayed on the mark. He had spent nights awake and thinking, reworking the events of the night of its creation. A phantom woman that he'd worried he would never see again had been the woman he had taken first as his mate.

Silver had writhed beneath him as Sean had bitten her---Nick. He had taken Nick as a mate without recognizing her, her reactions, anything.

“Captain, snap out of it.” Doctor Eostra's voice was a slap to the face. “Nick needs you—she's panicking.”

“What do you need me to do?” Sean was already removing his shirt. His cousin Eric had comforted his mate with skin when the young mate had been struck catatonic in the wake of his family's death.

Shirtless, he slipped behind her on the examination table, pulling Nick flush against his body.

She was cold against his skin, the shivers jolting his bruises. Akira had not pulled any hits.

An angry, protective mate...and a Grimm's instincts. Akira's death was lucky to have been swift. Nick shot a man, took a life to protect a child.

“Touch your mate, my Prince. It will-”

“I know.”

Sean bent, pressing his lips to the mark he had given Nick.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Your uncle is going to kill me.” Monroe did a good impression of a guilty puppy. “Nick, Renard is going to kill me.”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? We just left your house where you have a worried _steinadler_ and a shell-shocked Regnant going head to head in your kitchen. You snuck out a window!” The little yellow bug puttered through the city. “Nick, why are we going to Rosalee's?”

“Doctor Eostra had reassured any worries about the baby's health. Nick's worry about everything was not easily dealt with.

A bond. A mate bond.

Uncle Farley had told her stories as a child—as an adult; those fairy tales had been very educational about _Wesen_ , and a lot more honest than Disney.

He had never said anything about mating.

That was one of her clear memories of her father. He has read her stories in German, holding her in his lap in his office, a book open in front of them.

Nick's High German was slowly improving as she practiced—the words of the story were far clearer now.

“Once upon a time...” the stories all began. They were all filled with stories of those with two faces. On occasion, her Papa had spoken of the Regnants. Similar to Chimera, their appearance was obscured by legend—and their attributes were the only things that shone through the stories.

Fiercely protective and possessive, they had taken to rule like it was a gift from the gods.

Renard—well, Nick had seen Sean's care for her as something he had for one he considered his. She was his detective, therefore he cared for her.

“Nick, we're here.” Rosalee's shop was softly lit, and as they walked over, she opened the door for them.

“Rosalee?” The fuchsbau hugged her. “It's—I have a mate. I'm pregnant. I have a mate. I'm a Grimm, he's a _wesen_ \--”

“A Regnant—the Prince.” Monroe added as Nick continued, pushing them into the shop.

“You're Aunt managed to raise you.”

“MY aunt may have been my guardian, but both she and my uncle Farley raised me.”

“See, Nick,” Rosalee pulled Nick onto a loveseat, curled her arms around her friend. Monroe shrugged, headed to the shop's little kitchen, and put on the kettle. “A _wesen_ and a Grimm can survive together. If Marie Kessler can settle down with a _steinadler_ , you can easily be with a regnant.” They were two very different Grimms, after all.

“There are two issues with that.” Nick's eyes were pink with tears, but her voice was no longer shaking. “One. My aunt couldn't have been the Marie Kessler—the Grimm of all the stories. She was in Yellowstone with Uncle Farley and me when she supposedly killed Monroe's grandfather. That's the most blatant issues—but the descriptions of the Grimm that did it are so similar to my aunt that I can't help but think.”

“You think that there's another Grimm out there.”

“Another—yes. There have always been a few families of Grimms. I think that this was my mother. She was identified as dead by default. The female corpse in the car crash that killed my parents was identified by default. She was decapitated, my father was also dead, and she was nowhere to be found. No DNA tests in those days. People always said that she and Aunt Marie were like twins.”

“Two?” Monroe was shakily pulling cups out for tea—having nearly dropped the kettle. Rosalee pulled Nick in close.

“I wanted to tear Akira's throat out tonight—It was as if my skin was itching to change but couldn't. I think that my father was something – _wesen_.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well, what makes a Grimm, Grimm?”

 

 

 

“You got my niece pregnant.” Farley had his claws out.

Steinadlers took after birds. They might nest, but they always thought of flying as their true home. Perhaps especially in Kolt's case, it bred disdain for any part of the wesen-ruling hierarchy.

A prince rarely had to deal with any non-political flack about their mates.

“And you went hunting the coins of Zacynthos, _steinadler_. Brought Akira down on her head, to my mate's door!” Whispering that to Nick in his car on the way to her house from the hospital had earned him a glare that made his wings tremble. She was no retiring woman. His mother would be relieved.

“He would have found her eventually.” The _steinadler_ admitted. “Marie and I took Nick in after her father died. The coins were why—the Kesslers recovered them after Hitler.”

“There is a legend that the wesen who holds the coins can rule the world.”

“Anyone," Farley refuted. “Can rule the world with rhetoric and swords. The Grimms just take to the coins differently. They are a powerful.” He stopped, glared. “You and I really shouldn't speak of them. They're trouble.”

They were an addiction soothed by a mate, thankfully. A pregnant mate. The thought brought an instinctive smile to Sean's face.

“Why did you leave Nick here if you knew Akira was in town? She's pregnant.”

“Yes. I once saw her father pull out a man's heart while his wife was pregnant—his claws were pink for two weeks.”

“Claws.”

“Yes, the _hauskatzchens_ can be violently protective when there's a litter involved.”

“Never mind that.” Wu spoke from the doorway. “They've found something at the docks. The mayor's aide just called.”

“I'll expect the mayor's call soon. Where's Nick?”

“Sleeping.”

“I just called Burckhardt, sir; she’s at a friend's. I'll pick her up on my way in.” Wu contradicted his captain.

“How did you find me here?”

“Captain, you're three things. My prince, my boss, and the mate of a very pregnant Grimm. Given today's events...”

“I'd be here.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

“You ran.”

 “You hover, Captain.”

“Sean.”

“That doesn't mean,” Nick knelt next to the blood pool, drawing a finger throuhg it. “that you do not hover.” Hank lounged in the doorway, his jeans rolled up past his ankles and a notebook in his hand. “Hank, wouldn't you agree that the Captain hovers?”

“I'm not sticking my foot in my mouth, Burkhardt.” He notes something down. “That's a very large pool of blood.”

“It's not just blood.” The gloved finger hits the air, and in it something glimmers in the lights. “I think that's a strand of muscle. There's blood on the walls as well.”

“So our killer shredded the corpse?” Hank's scoff echoed off the metal walls of the shipping container. “Dammit, wasn't Akira bad enough? We could use a break from the madness.”

The Captain was back on his feet, walking around the crate. A penlight in hand, he scanned the walls. “Did you have to say that word?” The Captain stood in front of one of the walls, flashlight on a particular bit of blood splattering. “This one decided that he had to paint with the blood.”

“Damn.” Hank moved next to the Captain, eyes on the words. “What language is that?”  
“French.”

 

 

“Why did you leave the house?” Nick shoved her hand down between her seat and the car door, reaching for the lever to change the distance from the dash to her seat and yanked at it. The noise screeched over her answer.

Thankfully Rosalee was at least roughly her size, and she had some crappy jeans around the shop for the messier potions and the occasional deep cleaning.  As it was, she'd borrowed another of Monroe's plaid shirts to throw on over her sleep tank. Shelf bra tanks weren't much support but they were better than nothing.

“You and my uncle seemed to be enjoying yourself, Sean.” Nick tried to put her thoughts about this in a row. How to explain illogical reasoning was something that she and other cops tried to excel in—when understanding the criminal psyche. Explaining the cop's reasoning was next to impossible here. “I- I ran. Sean, Captain, I'm pregnant. For the first time in my life, I feel that I could manage a pregnancy without hesitation. But a relationship? I'm—I haven't had many and none ended well.”

“Why not just say that to me?” The Captain’s hands tightened around the wheel, knuckles bleeding white with the remembered stress. “I was downstairs, sitting in your kitchen arguing with the steinadler while you went out a window!”

“I’ve gone out plenty of windows in my time, Captain. I wanted time to think. And I needed to talk to Rosalee.”

“Not your _blutbad_?” The green of envy in her Captain’s voice nearly made Nick laugh aloud.

“Monroe is no threat to you-- He is a good friend. He’s also trying to figure out how to best court Rosalee, who may be fast becoming one of my closest friends. Perhaps they also share something with me that you cannot, Sean.”

“What?” The snap of his voice made her tingle, and Nick swallowed her words, reconsidered before forging onwards. “What can they share with _my mate_ that I cannot?”

“Perhaps- knowing each other outside of work and bed? Mutual experiences? Sean, we’ve never spent the night watching An American Werewolf in London and eating popcorn. We stand over dead bodies and investigate their lives and deaths. Occasionally we go out for beer. I would trust you with my life, but we have barely shared any of it.”

“I see.” Sean pulled his thoughts together, pulling onto the street his parking structure was located on. “Maybe we could--try seeing who we are, especially together?”

“You mean a date.” Nick could feel a smile starting. Talk about closing the barn door after the horses escape. “I could do a date.”

“What would you think about sharing breakfast?” Renard reached over, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing it. “After I change.”

“You are wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Nick felt the giggle escape. “I don’t think that I have ever seen you in yesterday’s clothes,” Nick brought herself under control. “It has been several very stressful days. I think breakfast would be wonderful. Where is your kitchen?”

“You cook?”

 

 

“It’s not a perfect breakfast.” Indeed, the eggs were slightly browned and piled solely on the Captain’s plate, but the pancakes were round and drizzled with syrup.

“I didn’t know that I had any pancake mix.” Sean poked at a pancake. “Why don’t you have eggs?”

“Eggs make me nauseous.” Nick admitted. “You don’t have pancake mix. What you do have is a very dusty box of dried milk, some flour in the freezer, and five dozen eggs. I figured that either you liked eggs, or they were a necessary part of your diet.”

“I eat eggs for breakfast most mornings.” Sean affirmed. “Thank you for cooking.” He cut into the pancakes, lifting one up. “What did you use for syrup?” He was certain he didn’t have maple syrup.  
“Strawberries and sugar, heated on the stove. If you had heavy cream, there would have been whipped cream, but you apparently prefer half and half?”

“Close.” The food was… “Thank you for cooking, again. I don’t prefer half and half, I prefer cream, but my doctor convinced me to switch to half and half. He still urges me to switch to skim, if I must have milk in my coffee.”

“Your doctor worries about your health?” Dr. Eostra had her own concerns that she had mentioned to Nick. “Is there medical history?”

“Nick, when I asked you to breakfast, I meant it as an invitation to a date, not as a time for interrogation.” The low baritone had that note that it had held when Wu had tried to eat one of every cupcake at the last department bake sale. The creation of the bake sale--Nick declined to think of that story. 3 horrible attempts at butter cream, one of which she only found out about after Whisky had gotten into the batch she was going to bring in for the sale-that was enough humiliation. “I meant for us to try and meet each other as people looking for a relationship, not a _rendezvous.”_

“The last time I did that, I found my partner fucking her teacher in our bed, not four feet from where I’d stashed the engagement ring.” Suddenly her cutlery seemed fascinating. “It is not a situation that I’d care to repeat.”

“I know.” Sean had handed her more gasoline. “How did your aunt and uncle meet?”

It was something that had puzzled him since he met the _steinadler_ the night before.

“According to my Uncle Farley, they met on a bright and sunny day, at a county fair, with the world singing around them.” Nick grabbed onto the distraction. “My aunt never disagreed about the county fair part. However, her version of the story involved a great deal less courtliness, and a great deal more idiocy. They were introduced by mutual friends. According to some of their friends, when they first started out they fought like cats and dogs. My aunt Marie was a librarian, and Uncle Farley was in the Army at that point, jumping out of perfectly good planes, and they couldn’t agree on anything long enough to get anything done. Only that they loved each other. She didn’t want to be an Army wife; he didn’t want to leave the army yet. And then my parents died.”

“That changed everything.” It always did.

“My Aunt Marie and my Uncle Farley were married by an Army chaplain, and my aunt left the small town where she was working as a children’s librarian and became a research librarian. That lasted as long as Uncle Farley was still in the army. Aunt Marie was then hired as a traveling librarian for one of the larger corporations. I’ve realized that it let her become _the Grimm_ without endangering me, let her hunt.”

“What happened with your uncle Farley?”

“He raised me.” Nick knew it to be the simplest explanation of the turn of events. “He became a security consultant, officially. It wouldn’t surprise me if he stole, conned, and occasionally did damage for hire, but I saw him far more than I saw my Aunt Marie. Honestly, I saw more of my Aunt Marie than I ever saw of my mother, but that’s a whole different story.”

“You love them.”  
“I love them both. They were far more my parents than my mother was.”

“What about your father?” Sean asked. “Do you remember much about him?”

“Yes.” Sean remembered his own father, strict, harsh, and loving to the son of one of his vassals. He hadn’t understood why until he was nearly twelve and his mother had explained why, and warned him. “Doctor Eostra said that my father was _Katzchen_. If he was, I may not have realized it. He was a man taller than my mother or Aunt Marie, but shorter than my uncle. He rumbled when he was happy, and baked a great deal. He kept a hutch of rabbits in the backyard, and the city council asked us many times to get rid of it. He’d say to them, and this is my memory _“Wihr esse mein Kaningchen  und sie essen vas?”_ \--Something about ‘We eat my rabbits, you eat what?’ He hated that so many people didn’t understand that what they ate was once an animal or a plant, that instead they thought food came wrapped in plastic or paper and string.” Nick smiled. “Mein Vater loved my mother very much--in reflection, she was his mate. What do you remember of your parents?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: my German is very bad, and googletranslate was NO help. The translation is a bit approximate.
> 
> I will offer no apologies for the length of time that elapsed between the last two chapters. I have a life outside of writing, and for a great while it has been very hectic with a move, job change, new internship, and renewed language courses. To manage writing now can be much more problematic. Besides, I lost my outlines in the move.


	11. Heat XI

“And then you fired your service pistol into his chest.” The Internal Affairs detective wasn't asking, Nick didn't think. This man was either unable to read her report, hadn't been to autopsy to look at Akira's corpse, or had not visited where the shooting had taken place. One of these things, all three, Nick couldn't bring herself to care.

Instead of running through the details of her newest case, Nick was with a pair of IA rats and reviewing the events of the last few days.

“He was stalking you, and you decided to end it.” The man's partner was slightly shorter with a comfortable build and sensible shoes. If this wasn't an investigation into one of Nick's shootings, Nick thought she'd like the lass. As the investigation stood, Nick would settle for mild admiration of the woman and a fair bit of disgust for the woman's taller, stringier partner.

“Do you have evidence of stalking?” Nick wouldn't be surprised. The man was hunting her, after all, and knowing your prey's patterns helped catch them. “I was in my bedroom, getting ready for bed when I heard muttered cursing in nearby. My uncle Farley wouldn't bother being quiet about it, and no one else would be in the house. I had already locked up my service weapon for the night. When my uncle moved in with me, he brought several things with him.”

“Why did your uncle move in?” Detective Stevens, that was the man's name. Of course he tried to insinuate things with his voice. Asshole.

“I don't know his reasoning to move in with me, Detectives, but I do know my reasoning. My girlfriend left me several months ago, and my dog Whiskey may be a good friend, but she's not another family member. Uncle Farley and my Aunt Marie raised me after my parents died—he has been quite lonely since she passed away. For now, it is a comfort to live together.. With the baby coming, I wanted someone around.”

“I see.” A breath. “You were saying.”

“My uncle left a grenade launcher in the hallway closet: he's a military contractor so he has permits for it, but I know that it should be locked up. Unfortunately, we haven't had time to buy a bigger gun safe. Mine's just the size for my service pistol, back up, and a little derringer that my Aunt Marie used to carry, not for a rifle.”

“I didn't need an explanation.” Detective Sorenson glared at Stevens.

“I actually like some of it, Sorenson. Did you see the body?”

“There was a man, wanted for murder, who had broken into my home. In specific, he was in the nursery and had a weapon in hand. I shot him.”

“And didn't stop pulling the trigger until you ran out of ammo.”

“It was a grenade launcher, just one shot did the trick.” Sorenson cut off Stevens. “Did you feel that there was an honest threat to your life, Detective Burkhardt?”

“Yes.” And now it was over.

“Then that is it. For now, we need your service weapon and your back up as we finish the investigation, Burkhardt.”

“Don't leave town.” That earned the asshole a glare.

 

“So how was IA?”  
“When did they hire Stevens?” Hank was lounging in a chair and Nick dropped into hers. Ergonomic whatever, it was better than those metal chairs that IA supplied their interview rooms with. “If he's passed HR's sensitivity training, I'll eat my boot.”

“Was he sexist?”

“The moment I mentioned Juliette, his eyes glazed over, like he was imagining things.”

“Nick, to be honest, the first time I met Juliette, I thought about the two of you together.” Nick's sides burned as she laughed at him. “It was hot.”

“I know.” Nick had thought the sex to be steaming, Juliette had certainly known her way around a woman. “I thought so too. You didn't make a nasty comment about it under your breath though.”

“Ouch.” Hank kicked up his feet. “They take your service weapon?”

“And my backup. I've got the derringer though. And they didn't take my badge.”

“If someone gets close enough to you to be an easy victim to the derringer, we have passed being in trouble and approached being in deep shit.”

“Hank, you've got a way with words.” The Captain was there, hands filled with coffee cups. One to Hank, one to Nick-- “It's decaf.”

“I miss real coffee.” Nick gulped it down anyway. “You didn't have to.”

“I heard that you were grilled by Stevens.” Lenard stated. “And you deserve something coffee-flavored. You've--”

“You're flirting.” Hank stated it. “Captain.” He drank his coffee. Black, no milk. No sugar. Sometimes--  “Captain, it's cute. Just find a way that I won't lose the squad or my partner.”

“Hank!”

“What?” Hank grinned at them. “You came in together this morning, and he's been a lot more protective since you and Juliette broke up. I put it together. You're dating.”

“Nope.” Disbelief. “Hank, I had breakfast with the Captain this morning.  A date, not dating. When I say it like that, we've dated for years, Hank.”

“What? No!” Hank's tossed hands and reared back head brought Wu over. “It's not that I don't like you, doll, it's that I do like you.”

“Yeah, Nick's not another ex-wife.” Wu loosened his collar. “When did IA let you out?”

“Just ten minutes ago.  Sorenson has my service weapon, back up. What did you find out about the cargo container?”

“Country of origin was France.”

 

 

 

“Where you come, trouble follows.” Her sister’s steinadler dropped into the seat across from her, coffee in hand.

“Do you have a point?”

“Your croissant getting lonely?” Her croissant, thank you very much, was lovely. Almost gone. “There was a killing down at the docks this morning.”

“There are always killings at the docks in big cities.”

“Not this bloody, and done with the teeth of a large cat.”

“ _Mauvaises Dentes.”_ There were several curses that she could say, none of them were strong enough. “Farley, is my daughter--”

“Nick is currently at work, safely surrounded by the Prince, her partner Hank, and this odd little _wesen_ that I haven’t figured out yet. Good guy--very quick and clever.” Farley changed paths. “I wouldn’t worry about her. The Prince rules from the Police Department, and Portland is his Canton--I know that one who tried to kill within his inner court would come as close as is possible in this day and age to having his head on a pike.”

“T Hat was an awkward sentence.” The last of the croissant was gone. “What do you think is happening, that a _Mauvaises Dentes_ is in Portland? They’re the attack animals of the Royals--do you think that a war is at hand?’

“I think that the European royals are sticking their noses into the hunt for the coins.” Farley tried not to say it. “I’m afraid that the family in France is trying to expand their territory, and they haven’t heard about Akira’s death yet.” What ‘it’ was, Farley wasn’t sure.

“You raised her well.” She allowed the compliment, for it was after all, the truth of the matter. “My daughter-the strong Grimm.”

“Our daughter, dearest sister-in-law. Akira was a threat, but he found himself threatening the wrong Grimm.”

“A grenade launcher, Farley. Truly?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It was next to the nursery, according to the uniformed officers at my daughter’s house.”

“It was actually being stored in the diaper tub, but I’d taken it out to clean it, and forgotten to put it back.” They shared a smile of understanding--better not to be without a weapon. Besides, the nursery could always be purged of weapons closer to the delivery date.

 

 

“The FBI is taking over the case we caught this morning.” Sean watched Hank growl at the words. “I just got a call from the Federal Building.”

“But--”

“Hank, we have to wrap up the Akira case.” Nick’s calm words were a usual balm to her partner’s temper. “Plus we may catch that robbery case downtown. They have to call us in, and I’ve looked at the paperwork, they’ve got a serial bank robber on their hand. Poor guy’s probably pathological about this.”

“We’re too busy, is what you’re saying?” Hank didn’t want to let go of the case, but Nick had a point.

“We’re too busy. Let the FBI catch a guy who left a pond of blood on a boat.”

Sean snorted. Trust his _Grimm_ of a mate to be the cop that decided against a mad rush at the stone wall of the US Federal Government. “They will ask questions of you, as the scene has already been cleared.”

“We will. Many of them.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

 

“So where is your Uncle?”

“What are you, scared?” The teasing certainly worked- Sean snorted at her, his power flaring, and Nick grinned, moving over to the stove and setting the filled kettle to boil. Tea made every conversation better. “I haven't a clue. I find that sometimes I would rather not know what _exactly_ my uncle is doing. I have known him all my life, and I am certain that there are things about his job that I shouldn't know about.”

“Not to mention, having had to arrest him in your line of work.” Meeting Farley Kolt-seeing the _steinadler_ and his niece interact had been his first clue that maybe his _Grimm_ hadn't been completely innocent of the _wesen_ world before Marie Kessler had died.

Standing in the doorway of Nick's kitchen, he watched. Instead of his gleaming steel appliances and granite countertops, she'd chosen something much more utilitarian, and quite different than what he remembered it being.

A thick wedge of sealed wood stood as the countertop, replacing linoleum, and the Keurig that had been his Christmas present to Juliette & Nick was gone, replaced by something with a much bigger coffee output. This was more of a cop's coffee pot. A KitchenAid sat close to the stove, which had a glass top instead of the gas he remembered from the last year's Christmas party.

“Have you started nesting?” He asked the question, and wondered if she would through something at him in response. His sister Annaliese had, when he'd been a fifteen year-old fool.

“I had started painting the week that I took off after Juliette left, and I craigslisted some of her things. The Keurig went to a friend-a coffee pot is much more helpful. I want an entire pot, some mornings, not a cup. And I don't get any right now!” The last bit--

“Would you like some cheese with that whine?” It had been the first English idiom that his mother had started to use around him when he started learning English. Going through puberty had been interesting, and his mother had been wholly amused by the ordeal. She would probably- “I'm sorry, you've given up coffee?”

“I switched to decaf a few weeks ago.” Nick admitted. “I'm probably going to give it up altogether for the rest of the next two years. I can't live this way, only drinking a pale imitation.”

“Would you want me to also give up coffee?”

“Sean.” Nick pulled cups and tea bags out of the cupboard. Her Tazo tea was the best to serve to company, and her favorite, besides. “We have barely managed one date.”

“We already know more about each other than many do.” The kettle started screaming, breaking into tense air. Renard moved to pull it off the stove, setting the water to steep over the teabags. “I'm also worried.”

“Why?”

“I think we need to talk about our families. Mine, in particular.”

“You're most worried about your family, aren't you?”

“My father is a member of one of the royal families; his wife was an appropriate match. He grew bored with her, eventually, or he was never monogamous in the first place, I do not know. I do know that my mother, Ysille was the widow of another one of his vassals, and in her own right-a _Hexenbieste_.  Actually, Adalind Schade is my cousin, twice removed. My older sisters told me that when my father came courting, she was flattered by the attention, but had little plans on dallying with him—her husband had been her mate.”

“Obviously, something happened.” Nick steered him to the table, sitting them down with tea, her hand reaching to his.

“My father made it an order.” Ysille Renard had never begrudged her son that, though he sometimes had felt as if others of her kin had. “He grew bored, but the damage was done. I was conceived, and his wife insisted that I be killed. Then; my grandfather stepped in. He did not agree, not at all. The royal families have bred very closely over the years, and he thought that fresh blood would help. My mother and her household were sent away. My mother chose Switzerland, and I spent my summers with my Grandfather. My half-brothers, my father's children with his wife were resentful, and worried, and a great many things. Eventually, I left for the United States for school, to escape them.”

“Were they-”

“They are violent, and though one of my brothers and I can manage to speak civilly, he begrudges me Portland and the fact that this is becoming a far more prosperous Canton than his own. I believe that, with what happened to Akira, he or others of my kin may be plotting.”

“What evidence do you have?”

“The man in the shipping container was killed by a _Mauvaises Dentes_. My brother has two in his employ. They are not many in number, but are utterly loyal, and commit to a cause.”

“And have other nasty qualities.” Nick thought on her ancestor’s books. While humans and the _wesen_ might not gauge injury on the same scale, the _Mauvaises Dentes-- “_ One of my ancestors came across a farmhouse. Five children, and the _Mauvaises Dentes_ was gnawing on a hyoid bone.”

“Your ancestors liked to record everything-or rather?”

“It was the artwork. That particular artist had rather anatomically accurate sketches. Unlike the cousin that seemed to think that proportion was something to ignore.”

“I think that I would like to see some of these records.” It was a request, not an order, for once. “But I do think my brother is behind it. He seems to think that every problem can be solved with violence.”

“You don’t agree?” Nick knew he didn’t, but watching her Captain’s reasoning had never ceased to be a joy.

“When all your tools are hammers, every problem is a nail.”

“Too true.” The statement was true, without a doubt. “ Do you expect other violence from your family?”

“I don’t know.” Mother would be amused, no doubt, that he’d been caught be his mate without even realizing it. “My grandfather would be happy. Our child would be the first heir of his born on this continent. If you were human, he’d be happy, but knowing that you’re a Grimm? That may be a gamble.”

“We wouldn’t have to say that I am a Grimm. If my father was _Katzchen_ and my uncle is _steinadler_ , we could introduce me as my father’s daughter, not my mother’s.”

“ _Silver_ , you smell of Grimm.”

“Do I smell of Grimm, or is it that I smell of me, and I am your Grimm?”

“I see what you mean.” The tea was a good break, even if it was cold. “I think that the _Mauvaises Dentes_ will end up dead without need for our interference.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s bad for business.” Nick’s hands were clenched around her cup, and he reached out to prod a hand free and into his. “Either one of the _Hexenbiestes_ will take care of it, or maybe one of the _blutbad._ He’s a foreign predator, and he’s sloppy.”

“You’re assuming that my uncle hasn’t gotten wind of him yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before Akira came to town, there wasn’t a grenade launcher in my linen closet, nor a fire thrower in the bathroom, three AK47s scattered around the house, or a second derringer in my bedroom. I think that there’s a scimitar in the nursery. And that’s just what I’ve found, not what my uncle’s stashed. He was going hunting the night Akira came to the house.”

“You think that Farley Kolt will kill the beast.”

“I think that my uncle will have an airtight alibi and the corpse will float in on the tide, devoid of identifying marks. We’ll call it a mob hit, and leave it be, and it’ll go cold.”

“Sounds like you’ve heard of this happening before.”

“My uncle can be very protective.” Her lips quirked. “He did not like my third boyfriend one bit.”

“He loves you very much.”

“He raised me. My aunt helped, but my Uncle was a stable presence. I’m not sure that my aunt wasn’t broken by her parents’ death, followed by my parents’ death.”

“I am sorry.” It was something that Sean had grown to have trouble with, apologies. Perhaps it was the result of his siblings, or the growth of his pride. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this trouble.”

Nick had no patience- “Am I or am I not a Grimm?” It was a rhetorical question, and the tone reminded Sean of Ysille. “Portland is my home, Sean, and it is your territory; this trouble would have come to my doorstep regardless. Do me the favor of not expecting me to be less than I am.”

“Thank you for the tea?” He tried to avoid apologies, but at the least, make amends. “You’ve been running some things at work--”

“Nice change of subject. My aunt Marie and my Uncle took me in following the car crash that killed my parents. I was too young to really notice that things were odd about my parents deaths, but when the coins first came to our attention, I looked into their history. One of my relatives was involved with the OSS during the second Great War, and he had kept a diary--the coins were in my family’s custody until just around the time when my parents had the car crash.”

“You thought that the coins had been lost then, at the car crash.”

“I pulled the police report to look at the forensics, see if I could find more information on who might have stolen the coins and I came across  some startling information.”

“Your father and a beheaded body were found, both dead.”

“That, and that three people were missing from town that day, none of whom were ever seen again. My parents, and another woman, a friend of my parents’ and my aunt. My mother was identified because a woman’s beheaded corpse was found with my father--and my aunt Marie made a positive id.”

“You don’t think--”

“I think that my Aunt Marie would do anything she could to keep my mother, her twin, safe. I also think that my aunt was never quite as enraged as the reports of her said she was--she was a librarian and researcher. My mother, however, was an emotional woman with a tendency towards instability that I remember even as a young child; my father gave her a purpose and a way of channeling her emotions.”

“You think that something happened, the coins were stolen, and your parents and their friend decided to leave town. The car had it’s brakes cut, or they frayed; that was in the report. The woman was beheaded. Your aunt lied, took you in.”

“As a cop, I think that the identifying information for the woman in that car crash was questionable, Sean.” No, Nick thought her mother had abandoned her, using her friend’s death to disappear, hunting her husband’s killers. An obsessive woman, her mother had probably focused solely on the loss, and made things happen. “I think that whatever happened, I was left alone by my parents. And that is the one thing I don’t want for my child. Either you are in the child’s life, or you aren’t, but you don’t get to chose to leave.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The thing is--”

“Monroe, shut up.” Rosalee looked back down at her book. “He is the Prince, they are mates, it is not our business.”

“I was there.” He turned from angry stalking and didn’t quite shout at her. “I was there that morning. I picked my friend up from a building, and ended up taking her to the hospital. The nurses glared at me during the exam. And she’s dating him.”

“Monroe.”

“He hurt her.” It’s a growl building up, and Rosalee can feel the _woge_ in her bones. She may love him, but some things the man just didn’t seem to get. “He made her bleed. How is that acceptable?”  
 “She liked it.” Rosalee replaced her bookmark. “You’re a _blutbad_ , your instinct is to hunt and chase…I’m rather fond of running myself. But Nick is two things. _Grimm,_ and _Katzchen_. The first; it wouldn’t surprise me that it effects her life in ways we don’t know. We already know that her duty to the safety of others is more of an obsessive passion. But _Katzchen_? There’s a reason that they are nearly extinct. They are kin to cats in multiple ways; the estrous heat being one of them. Cats are also possessing of a barbed penis; a little pain in sex would be nothing exceptional to their biology.”

“But-”

“Monroe, if it’s what she wanted, then why are you so concerned?”

“If she’s going to say yes to something small, what would she say no to?” Rosalee smiled, nodded. Finally, a bit of understanding. “The mating bond of a Regnant could, in theory, make her willing to things that she wouldn’t be in her right mind.”

“I doubt that she would have a mate if that were the case.” Rosalee reminded Monroe. “You are quite protective, she has her partner, and we mustn’t forget her uncle.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You _bitch_!” His sister in law just stood there and laughed, damn that woman. Waist-deep in the waste water from the plant, of course he had to fall in.   
“Grab my hand.” It’s familiar, an echo of her twin’s bones, and it hurts him deep inside to see his mate’s smile on a far more slender face. She pulls, and they’re back besides the _mauvaises dentes._ “I cannot believe that you’re a relative of my husband.” At least Marie had softer grin, though that knife edge of violent madness was certainly familiar. “Such a shame that you both came from the same genus.”

“Stop playing with your food.” The _wesen_ is shivering, whether from thwarted battle madness or fright, Farley cannot tell. “He’s not going to last the night, we might as well make it quick.”

“I spotted him outside Nick’s house.” The sudden kindling of violence is unsurprising. He’s never bothered to tamp down the urge to protect his niece. “He knew where she lived.”

“Unsurprising.” Farley tested the edge of his knife, eying the way the line of blood followed it down. The ensuing struggle was rather futile, only pushing the knife in further.

“Why do you say that?”

“The house is Nick’s. Her name is on the deed, which is registered with the county. It’s public record. Plus she’s got this cult following. Cute little _eisbibers_ love her. It’s why she no longer has a hole in the wall from where she took care of Akira. All he had to do was follow the workmen.”

“I see.” She’s got her own knife out, and Farley watches her choose her bit of flesh. “We really should change that.”

“It’s the girl’s choice. Plus, I doubt this idiot would have gotten past the second set of defenses. Lass put mines underneath the windows two days ago.”

“Ouch.” Her tone is admiring, and Farley can’t help but agree. He had raised her well. “Well, first you can tell us who sent you.”

Her hand removes the gag, and Farley makes sure that the latex covers his hands.


	13. There is NO Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no Chapter 13.  
> There are however, gratuitous, plotless, mildly smutlike words.

Two doors down, on an air mattress in the nursery, Sean wakes to a damp blanket and an urge to--”Nick?”

Sean cannot remember the last time he slept through something as potentially threatening as someone coming into his room as he slept. Apparently, his mate does not awaken his self interest. She really should. Even before his Detective had become the Grimm, he had seen her wreck havoc.

“Good morning.”

“You couldn't sleep?” It felt odd to him. Hank's favorite story to tell at the bar was about his partner's ability to fall asleep wherever or whenever she put her mind to it. The man was always asked to explain by the less gullible cops. He had a story—they had been on stakeout. Unfortunately, they hadn't been in a comfortable car, instead they had been given a tiny balcony and one set on binoculars. During a thirty minute shift with the binoculars, Hank had turned around to ask his partner a question only to find her snoring, standing perfectly still and wholly asleep.

“It's not getting to sleep that's the issue, Sean.” She raised his blanket, sliding her legs under the covers. Already he could see the slightest of rounding under her nightshirt-or rather, felt it as she rolled onto him, using him as a pillow. “Apparently having you in the house wakes me up. You're too close and too far away at the same time.”

“And you think crawling into bed together will help?” The sheet remains raised, and Nick slides further under the blankets.

“Well, it certainly will help me know where you are. Would you like help with this?”

“Help with--” Sean nearly swallowed his tongue, and threaded his fingers through her hair. There's barely enough to wrap around his fingers, but he can feel the slight bump of mole on her scalp under the pad of his forefinger and it distracts him from the biting joy of teeth and tongue around his cock.

She has a way with this, or maybe he's swept up in wet suction and unable to thing straight, but what had been a nocturnal erection is hard and hammering, the center of his thoughts.

Nick's jaw is a line under his thumb, a soft patch of skin. They're laying side by side, their bodies almost infinite, an unending cycle. He pushes into her mouth, she takes, and through their bond, he can echo the pleasure that she takes in his need of her, give her the mirror of the pleasure that he receives.

Sean tried to bite back a moan and didn't succeed.

“Thank you.” It was a whisper in the air. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Captain, there's a woman here to see you.”

The pile of paperwork would not get any smaller with Wu in the room, announcing a visitor, and with Wu's disturbing tendency to try out new sushi places with dubious hiring and ordering practices, that pile might only get larger.

“Sergeant, did you get any more information than that?”

“Captain, she said that her name was Catherine Schade.” Adalinde had inherited many things from her mother. “She's contained, but seems rather distraught.”

“Bring her in, and send a rookie over to Starbucks-- you know how I take mine. Ms. Schade will take a Mexican mocha—if the barista is new,”

“If the barista is new, there's a tablespoon of cinnamon in the coffee.” Wu knew that order.

“Please bring her in.”

 

 

 

 

He was standing when Catherine was shown in, moving to take her coat and hang it up. As always she had pulled herself together with Ann Taylor and ropes of pearl, but the makeup was smearing and her eyes were swollen.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Sean knew Catherine Schade as a child, and the kissed cheeks are not a courtesy. “You look well.”

“It is not polite for me to say this, but Aunt Catherine, you look _trop mal._ What happened?” It is two words in French and Catherine was crying.

“ _Je ne veux pas ma bebe. Adalinde est perdu. Elle n'est pas telephone, et cette apartmente est abandonne. Ou est ma fille?”_ Catherine could not find Adalinde? How had the woman managed to leave Portland without telling her mother and slipping the net of people he had watching.

“ _Je n'est connais pas, Tante. Adalinde et moi, nous ne disons. Elle a manges le sang d'une Grimm.”_ Sean had not seen her in quite awhile. He was completely willing to keep a human on as legal representation for his community, but Adalinde's anger at Nick and unwillingness to even consider therapy had made her a liability he couldn't afford. She wanted power, and had a tendency to obsession. Unfortunately, the survival skills of her mother had manifested as a disturbing ability to shift loyalties. Perhaps that was the wrong way of putting it. It was off-puttingg to one who was half- _Hexenbieste_ to see therenownn loyalty shifted from another or one's family to one's self.

“My apologies, Sean. I did not mean to cry all over you.” Sean had managed to convince her to sit down in one of the chairs he kept for visitors, keeping one of her hands clasped in his. “It's just that I'm so worried. Adalinde is not so smart. I love her, but my daughter is not thinking straight.”

“Do you want to file a missing persons' report?”

“Yes, but I must tell you the full details of what happened as I know them, and you must decide what to put into your report. There are things that humans don't need to know.”

“Agreed. So what happened?”

“When Adalinde lost her powers, she was wrought with wrath.” Catherine's skill with words always came through in descriptions. “ She came to me, asking for my help with a zaubertranke for the Grimm, a punishment. I told her that I would help with no such thing; Adalinde knows that I have strong feelings on those that would change the emotions, motivations, thoughts of others. It is rape, Sean, rape of the heart and soul. I told her no, and that while I loved her, she had been justly punished. Adalinde—said some things. That Detective Burkhardt was a lesbian, wasn't that enough of a sin that deserved punishment, several other deprecations, and she made threats that the Detective would regret what she had done.”

“Well, nothing has overtly targeted the Detective other than those looking for the coins of Zacynthos.”

“Indeed, and she took him out, with a grenade launcher.” Catherine's hands wove through the air. “It is not sensible to piss off the Grimm. She is not mad, but I think that my daughter may be, to attack her. And she did. It didn't work.”

“What do you mean?” Sean thought of several options, including that Adalinde could have tipped off the location of the coins to his brother.”

“Juliette Silverton, unattended death. There is a zaubertranke that causes the victim to fall into a deep sleep. Juliette Silverton was the Detective's partner?” Sean coughed, turning it over in his mind. “No? Adalinde was under the impression that she was, having eaten dinner together.”

“They were. Nick was deeply attached, until she came home to her longtime girlfriend in bed with someone else. That was over three months ago, just after Adalinde lost her powers. I think that my detective barely noticed, her uncle had just returned to the city.”

“Adalinde disappeared shortly after her failed attack. I saw her for lunch two days later, and it wasn't until I went to bring her a credit card bill that had been delivered to the wrong Schade that I realized that she wasn't just busy.”

“Catherine, I'm so sorry.” Many years, spouses, and a change of homes, his aunt still looked more regal than his father's wife with much less effort.

“Sean, it is not your fault that this happened. Adalinde makes her own choices. She always has, and not always smart ones.”

“That is too true.” Sean swallowed his thoughts. Of all the people that he could tell on this side of the Pacific or Atlantic, his mother's cousin was the only person that truly mattered. “I know that this is the wrong time for you to hear good news.”

“Sean?” His aunt's face lifts slightly.

“You will be an aunt once again, soon.”

“You met someone?” Indeed, it lifts his aunt's spirits, and he can almost see the nursery she is designing. “Do tell me about her? When do I get to meet them?”

“It must be kept quiet for know. I took Nick as my mate. I had not planned on it, but apparently her father's legacy of _Katzchen_ managed to remove her better judgment, and it was as if I was...”

“Called to claim her.” Catherine was smiling, her eyes still scared, but slowly cheering. “Your mother had that same urge for Guillame.”

“She did?” Sean had never heard that. “I wish her mate had been my father.”

“I love you, son of my dearest kin, and you were a true gift. Your father may be an abomination, but you are a gift to our family.”

 

 

 

 

Nick left Doctor Eostra's office, nodding at the Maushertz about to enter. Martina was looking splendid, a change from the nervously rounded woman she had met months before.

Hands in her purse, Nick rooted around for the car keys, unable to find them with the vibrations of her phone. She grabbed it, pulling it and her badge out instead. The badge went onto her belt, and a brush of her thumb answered the phone.

“Detective Burkhardt here.”

“Detective?” The voice on the other end of the phone was shaky, an attempt at firm. “This is officer Larry Bauer, would there be a good time for us to meet today?”

“Which precinct are you at, Officer?” He named a precinct- she knew his superior officer and a few other people there. The kid was definitely a rookie. “I can be there within half an hour.”

“Thank you for coming, Detective Burkhardt.”

“Oh, Bauer, what's this about?”

“I'd prefer to speak with you about it in person.”

 

 

 

 

“Calm down,Bauer.”

“Why didn't you warn me?” They'd had the case since it had turned up on the docket. Young woman, blacked out, suffocated on her carpet. Found by her boyfriend. “Her next of kin's a cop.”

“That will make this that much easier.” Officer Stevens had nearly blown her first notification, the kid was already doing that much better. He'd made sure that the Detective met them, not trying to give the news over the phone. “It's a bit late for a notification, but it took awhile to figure out who was her legal next of kin.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Bauer's hair was it's usual thatch of worried brown hair, and she caught him reaching up to rumple it—it made him an excellent friend at the poker table.

“Does what happen a lot?” Stevens' first impression of Burkhardt had been three years ago—the woman had been speaking with a person of interest, and Stevens had been in pursuit of a purse snatcher when Stevens had seen her target go down like a bag of bricks. Burkhardt had grinned at her with wicked green eyes, and shifted her feet.

“Detective Burkhardt?” Bauer was on his feet, hand outstretched. “Officer Larry Bauer. Thank you for coming in.”

“ My pleasure.” The woman was no longer as slender as she'd once been, Stevens noticed. “Now, what's this about?”

“Please sit down.” Her rookie even pulled out the chair—she'd have to cure him of that. While being gallant helped with the general public, being so to the wrong cop could get him bloodied.

“Bauer.” Stevens sat back, notebook in hand. They recorded these things, when they happened in the precinct, but she found the notes she took could be far more helpful.

“My apologies, Detective Burkhardt. I regret to inform you of the death of Juliette Silverton.”

The startled laughter brought Stevens out of her notebook and fully into the conversation.

“You're kidding me.” Bauer tried to reassure her, Stevens shook her head. “Her death was in the news paper. Her name. Why are you notifying me? Why not Jason? Why not Mr. and Mrs. Silverton?”

“Jason?”

“Jason, Jason, I didn't catch his last name when I found her riding him in our bed.” Bauer nodded, looking down at his paperwork. “And her parents, shouldn't you be telling them?”

“Nathan and Alyssa Silverton died six weeks ago. Nathan had a heart attack, and she was killed when their car hit a tree.” Stevens kept her rookie from saying it. “Your relationship ended acrimoniously?”

“You could say that.” Nick had introduced them once, not that Stevens had enough contact with either of them to have to recuse herself from the case. “She cheated on me, when I found out and gave her a day to pack she decided to take two of our dogs with her. That was five months, six months ago? I changed the benefactors of my accounts, my health insurance, all of that. I moved on.”

“When was the last time you heard from her?” Bauer asked, going down the script.

“Two-three months ago? She called to see if I had some papers—I did. We met up at the Madison, I handed them over. Juliette looked good.”

“Did you know where she was living?” Bauer asked.

“No. I'm—I've moved on. Juliette and I lasted. To date, the longest relationship I've ever had was with her.”

Nick could feel her hands shaking, and she moved a hand to her shoulder, rubbing at the mark. Sean—how did she cry for the woman who left her, the woman that destroyed her heart? She was--

Stevens watched the detective wrap an arm around her stomach, the other on her shoulder. Her shoulders were shaking. “Detective?”

“I'm sorry, Officer Stevens, Officer Bauer. Juliette and I—I had thought that we were it. I had a ring. I was going to propose. We had dogs. Even if we didn't last, I thought that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. I don't think I --- What do you need from me, officers?”

“We have some more questions. Also, someone's going to need to claim the body.”

“Where are the dogs?”

 

 

 

Not once in the last two weeks had Sean spent more than ten minutes in his own apartment. Right now, packing up another week's worth of clothes, he was pushing half an hour spent at home.

“Sir.”

“So you've finally decided to say something?” The _fuchsbau_ hissed. He hadn't known that non-feline _wesen_ could make that sound. It wasn't necessarily bad; certainly disconcerting. Nick had made a similar noise when she'd seen his cup of coffee three mornings ago. “ I was wondering when you'd get around to saying it.”

“Sir, why are you staying at the Grimm's house?” Alexis Bottletail stepped out of his lean. “The same house as that loose cannon?”

“You don't like Farley Kolt?”

“The man has no loyalty.”

“We have different impressions of the man, Alexis.”

“He never stays in one place for too long, bodies follow him. You were put in danger because of him.” His loyal fox practically growled. “We couldn't keep you safe.”

“I put myself in harm's way.” Renard shook his head, watching his bodyguard stalk around the corners of the room. “You should know that he also stands at windows, watching the shadows.”

“For dangers to himself.”

“For dangers to his daughter-by-love, Alexis.” The man snorted. “Alexis, sit down. “I'm staying there because I want to be there. Farley- Farley is incidental. We met because he wanted the coins of Zacynthos and I had them. We would have met eventually though.”

“What do you mean?” Always wary, always suspicious, spymaster and occasional bodyguard, Alexis always wanted more information.

“Nick Burkhardt is the daughter of Farley's wife's sister—he helped raise her after her parents were declared dead. And I took her as my mate almost four months ago.”

“You're kidding me.”

“I did it—in the throes of passion. I did not know the breadth of what I had done—she's pregnant, Alexis.”

“My prince.”

“Alexis.” His right hand, his best friend stood in front of him. “She's perfect for me; strong enough to match me in my fury, and half Katzchen—she meets the needs that my heritage demands.”

“An heir. You have an heir-or will, soon. And a mate. Sean- I am quite annoyed with you right now.”

“I expected no less.” They had been as brothers since his mother's brother had introduced them. “The least I could have done was inform you that I thought that I had found someone.”

“You will introduce us tonight.” Alexis pulled another suitcase out of the closet, and started filling it. “I must meet this woman.”

 

 

“Captain!” Three dogs hit him as he walked through the door. Three shaggy dogs curling around his legs and pushing at Alexis. “Who is this?” Her eyes were on his, and Sean could feel the warmth bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

Nick had her hair ruffled, her apron wrapped around her and a butcher's knife at her side.

“Never mind that, why are there two more dogs?”

“I asked that question too.” Farley ambled into the center of the room, reaching down to pet Whiskey. “She said that you needed to be here.” Sean returned the glare with one of his own, feeling Alexis' echo behind him. “Who is this?”

“Alexis Bottletail, Farley Kolt, Nick Burkhardt. Nick, why are there three dogs?”

“I brought home two dogs, you brought home a stranger, why am I the one being questioned?” Nick bustled back into her kitchen, leaving the knife.

Turning to the three men that had followed her, she offered bread, salt, and water.

“Juliette didn't change her next of kin.”

Sean spit out the water. “What?”

“Those dogs are Whiskey's siblings, the dogs she took with her.” He saw the tears on her face and reached out, pulling her close. “I trust that I offered hospitality to a friend, Sean.”

“You did. Nick,” he kissed the top of her head. “I'm sorry.”

“I know we wouldn't have gotten back together, even if you and I hadn't—but, Sean? I'd hoped that we'd be friends again.”

“Oh, _mon cher_.”


	15. Fifteen

“Juliette left you as her next of kin.” Sean grimaced into his mug. “Why are you feeding me chamomile tea?”

“It's supposed to make you feel better.” Nick watched him, nose wrinkled and forehead scrunched, glaring at the cup as if it was a particularly recalcitrant suspect. “My aunt had the same view on it that you do—she thought it tasted like dirt. The woman loved a good cup of espresso.”

“I grew up in Europe, where all the big cities had street cafes. There was this place in Nice, where you could see both the Mediterranean and the street while sipping at your coffee. My mother had a villa there, with a view of the ocean.” The ocean, sand, and the lines of slender bodies, bronzed by sun and his view as an adolescent barely broken by the lines of a swimsuit. “I loved it when I was allowed to visit while I was in _lycee_ , over the summer and for time in the spring.”

“You lost your virginity there?” Nick liked the sound of it, sitting around her kitchen table, dogs sprawled around the three of their feet. Six feet in socks, twelve paws twitching as their minds slumbered, hunting the dream rabbit.

Alexis snorted with laughter, putting down his own cup. “No, this idiot only wishes that he'd lost his virginity in Nice. Sean was fifteen, we were at school, and there was an older boy. Sean—well, he got better.”

“Nice was quite educational.”

“You came the moment he wrapped his hand around you---I should remember, he gossiped about it for a week.” The blood rushing to his cheeks barely showed, something that he was grateful to his father for. His mother's Nordic complexion would have had him resemble a lobster or worse. “Oh, don't worry. When he started taking the lasses in Nice to bed, they left happy and well pleased.”

“Oh, I know.” Nick sipped at her green tea. “I've had better sex, but not much of it.”

“Do I want to know?” Sean tried not to slam the offending mug back down.

“You were there when I was talking with Dr. Eostra about my sexual history—did you know that she's the first doctor that I've been truthful with about myself, and not felt horribly judged by?”

“You're half _Katzchen_ , Nick-it would be expected that you would feel urges. It's--”

“Sean, it never felt perfectly normal. Aunt Marie didn't want me to know about the _wesen_ , and I think that if Dad had been human, she wouldn't have let me know as much as she did. As it was, I lost my virginity in the locker room at school—and it was--”

“Nick.” Sean reached out, only for her to reach for her stomach, lay her hands across the slight roundness. “I don't need to know.”

“You might as well know that the only reason that I think I've had better sex, is that while our night together was wonderful, as a result of the fact that I've rarely been able to maintain a long term relationship, I find that the best sex happens between people who've practiced together. A lot.”

Nick picked back up her mug of tea. “Also, I will be crying tonight. I loved Juliette, and I'd thought I'd dealt losing her. And to do the funeral arrangements will be bringing up a lot of old emotions.”

“I understand.” And even if he didn't, he'd have to deal with it. “Do you have anyone to help you with the estate?”

“I was thinking about hiring Mason Snyder or Frank Rabe to help with the estate.” Nick swallowed another sip, letting the spearmint calm her. “With both of her parents gone, Juliette had no siblings. I don't want to talk to the asshole, but I suppose I have to. I took the dogs.”

“I noticed. What was up with that?” It was not that he was displeased, but one husky shed quite a bit. They would be wading in the stuff with two more.

“Juliette brought three puppies home—their mother was a stray and quite young, she'd died shortly after whelping. I was up feeding them in shifts with Juliette for months before they got weaned. I took Whiskey with me—I used to take all three of them with me on runs, but the three of them got so interested in everything that I ended up having to take one a day on my runs—it was Whiskey's day. I went to Monroe's while she was cleaning out her stuff and we went running. Then I came back and she'd taken Brandy and JD. So today, with the key Officer Bauer gave me, I went to her old apartment, and picked up my dogs.”

“Does the boyfriend know?” Ever practical, he didn't want to arrest his mate for theft.

“I paid for all of their immunizations, and both my name and Juliette's names are on their records at the vet. I repossessed my property.”

“Well, they'll help keep you safe.”

“How?”

“I can't smell much other than Husky.” Alexis stated. “Certainly not that a Grimm lives here.”

“I quite approve.” Farley wandered back in. “Sweetheart, you're aware that there's a very unhappy young gentleman on the porch?”

“Well,” The hammering finally managed to make it's way through to the kitchen. “I do now.”

“Can't be your friend Monroe—he'd know where the spare key is.”

“Couldn't be Monroe,” Nick was walking through her house, hand on her service weapon. “He'd be smart enough to try the door.” There was a window from which she could see the front porch, and Nick cursed, pulling her hand away from her gun. “It's the yogalates teacher.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alexis was behind her, and she nearly elbowed him for the presumption.

“My ex left me for her yogalates teacher. And now he's standing on my front porch, hammering on the door, waking up my dogs.”

“So what you mean is that this isn't going to be pretty?” Renard's laugh echoed from the kitchen door. “Sean?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Why hello Jason. I see that you got my note.” Nick opened the door, and the man barged past her. “No hi, how are you?”

“Thanks for taking the dogs.” Jason spun towards her, and she half expected the man to _woge_ in front of her. “Nicola, what is the meaning of this?”

“Apparently Juliette never changed her paperwork, I was still listed as her next of kin, save her family.”  The man slicked back spiky blond hair, his hands moving frantically. “You know it's Nick.”

“I do.” Jason stepped back, pulled in a breath, let it go. Looking around Nick's front room, he took in his surroundings. “I see that you changed the décor.” His eyes lingered on the art over the fireplace, an old painting from when Nick was in undergrad, a woman half-melded with a lion, cubs peering out around her. “I like the art.” His eyes moved to the other people entering the room. “Who're they?”

Nick sighed. Thankfully, neither Monroe or Rosalee had come over tonight, or Hank—this could be so much awkward than it already was.

“Jason Tabard, my Uncle Farley,” She nodded towards her uncle. “Sean Renard, Alexis—was that Bottletail? I'm sorry, we've only just met.”

“You were entertaining guests.” Belligerency did not suit the surfer-tanned Jason. “When she's gone?”

“Did you think that Juliette would remain the center of my world? Jason, she left me. Remember, you were there. The shouting, the screaming—she left me for you.”

“You're doing the funeral.” Jason tried another front for attack, trying to find a better weakness. “What are your plans?”

“I'd say that they're none of your business, Jason, but that you were her boyfriend.” Nick had started to raise her voice, only to find a hand on her elbow and a fleece around her shoulders. “Sean?”

“Nick, you need to calm down.” She frantically sucked in air. The doctor had warned her-- “Remember your blood pressure.”

“What's wrong with her?” Jason wasn't unperceptive, it was one of the reasons that they had started taking classes at his studio in the first place. “Oh.” Eyes on her middle, Jason got it. “Didn't take you long to move on.”

“I found my girlfriend, the woman I wanted to marry, fucking you in our bed, Jason. People in glass houses shouldn't be throwing stones.” Nick fired back. “We can meet tomorrow afternoon, figure all this out. For now, get the fuck out of my house.” At her knee, Whiskey growled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Kinney, Rabe, and Associates, this is Leeanne. How may I help you today?” Perky was a sign of rampant evil, Nick had decided. Starting her day with a lovely bout of morning sickness and no coffee, dealing with a cheerful receptionist was on her list of symptoms. “Hello?”

“My apologies, Leanne. I was wondering if it was possible to book an appointment with Mr. Rabe today?”

Nick had taken the day off of work. Her boss was sleeping at her house, he knew what she had to deal with, and she would deal with the paperwork tomorrow.

“What type of appointment are you looking for today?”

“I need to figure out the details of---never mind, this is about death. Estate, funeral arrangements, whatever.”

“So you'll need about an hour. I have an opening at eleven today.” Nick checked her watch. Given that it was about nine thirty, she'd have an hour and a half to get across town to Frank's office. “Will that work for you?”

“Yes, it will.”

“What name should I put this under?”

“Nick. Nick Burkhardt.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She couldn't button her jeans. Nick sucked in a breath, pushed it out through her teeth, and considered screaming. Her neighbors wouldn't call the cops, would they?

They probably would, given that she'd shot someone with a grenade launcher in her home within the last few weeks.

Nick pushed her jeans to the side, and thumbed through her drawers. The elastic waist of the tap pants that she'd worn to yoga classes with Juliette would allow her stomach to be unimpeded, and they at least looked somewhat professional. Other than a few suit-skirts, all of her skirts were club wear.

The tap pants would have to be it, paired with one of the tunics that Juliette had bought her for a retreat, mid thigh length and loose fitting. If she paired it with sandals, some people that she worked with might not even recognize her.

One glance at the clock on her dresser pulled Nick out of that line of thought and had her hurriedly pulling up her pants and grabbing the tunic. Figuring in crosstown traffic, Nick wasn't _quite_ running late. Yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I must say that this was a great surprise to me.” Frank looked across his desk. Since the last time that he had seen the Grimm, she'd put on perhaps ten pounds, her hair was growing out of that pixie cut that had tricked him into thinking her a man the first time he'd met her, and she was a bit less tan. “I thought  that you had no family?”

“My aunt is dead, has been for quite awhile, and there was a lot less paperwork involved in cleaning up after her death. Honestly, I spent more time trying to hunt down transcripts for my college applications than I spent in tying up her accounts, Mr. Rabe. My aunt had been a Grimm, and lived off the radar for most of her life. My ex lover, Juliette, however, had never met a life plan she liked.”

“Could you clarify that?” Frank would take the work, because with his wife's indiscretions, he had lost some clients. The cop's words at his son's trial had been what had kept Barry at home with him and on probation, and not spending months in juvenile detention. “Juliette?”

“My ex-girlfriend, life partner, Juliette Silverton. She died recently. As an unattended death, everything was caught up for a fair bit, and then they called me.”

“You were left as her next of kin?”

“I changed all of my paperwork within the week, but Juliette was not very diligent at looking after her things. I need to make funeral arrangements, find all the parts of her estate, especially as she didn't always write things down in the same place, and disperse with things appropriately.”

“What do you need from me?” The weight on the detective's shoulders seemed to settle.

“Where do I start?” Nick heaved a sigh, forcing it past her rebellious gag reflex. “Start with the will. Juliette's documents should be in the folder, all of them. I pulled it out of her firebox. My jewel never changed her password, silly duck. Her password book should be in there.”

“Alright.” Frank looked over the desk, nudged his trashcan into reach and pulled it out from under his desk. “Here. While I go through the documents, please try not to use this.” Plunk it went, and Nick grabbed the can from off the desk, blushing as she placed it under the table.

“How'd you know?”

“Barry's mom would look green like that around the eyes when she was pregnant with him. It wasn't that far of a leap, since you smell like Prince.” At her raised eyebrows, he nodded. “You smell also a bit of that crazy eagle, but that doesn't surprise me. Those types always find themselves a home, a family to protect, a cause to fight for. I thought that you were far too much like a _Steinadler_ to be Grimm.”

“My Aunt's husband practically raised me, it was inevitable.” Nick felt the nausea subside for the moment. “My Father was Katzchen, Mr. Rabe, it was inevitable that I would be a _very_ odd Grimm.”

“Frank, Detective, call me Frank. After you spoke for Barry, the least I can do is offer you my friendship.”


End file.
